


One Sole Direction

by AleTommoPayne



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Aristocracy, Cambridge, College, Fanfiction, Historical, Larry Stylinson Is Real, London, M/M, Slash, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-04-04 10:16:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4133757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AleTommoPayne/pseuds/AleTommoPayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cambridge, 1936</p><p>    Louis William Tomlinson is the son of an English Lord.<br/>Marquis of Buccleuch and Queensberry and the Earl of Doncaster.</p><p>    Conquer some anonymous guy and have some anonymous sex: that's his tradition to inaugurate the academic year.<br/>Usually he chose a boor in the slums, and even if they are all queers , they exude masculinity from every flap of skin.<br/>But sometimes, something goes wrong.</p><p>    ‘I had just be screwed by a stranger.<br/>In all senses.<br/>With all senses.<br/>And I was laughing.’</p><p> </p><p>    'Some smiles take your breath away.<br/>He, with a smile, took your life.<br/>Right after it was no longer yours. '</p><p> </p><p>    ‘With one caress I give you what others can't have in a lifetime.<br/>They let me forgot the nights, you let me forgot the days.’</p><p> </p><p>    'He gave me his body by clinging  to mine.<br/>He loved with sweetness I did not think existed.<br/>His eyes were dew, his voice the rustle of silk.’</p><p> </p><p>    'There is no corner around the world ,where what we are will be forgiven.'<br/>'Then why did you ask me to believe in fairy tales?'<br/>'Because maybe Wonderland is not where but  when.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. what?

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a translation. The original One Sole Direction is by Edwill and is written in Italian.  
>      All the phrases you find in the story are traslated in english ( spoiler alert : sometimes they will speak french or italian, you will know, don't worry) 
> 
>      The story is being translated also in French.
> 
> You'll find all the contacts at the end xoxo

 

_"Alice did you sometimes learn something from your past experiences, or what?"_

_"What."_

 

from 'Alice in Wonderland'

Lewis Carroll  
  


 

  
  
I felt his palm pushing on the back of my  open hand against the wall.

Jesus Christ, he had already put his hands everywhere and I had not even asked yet

 

_'What's your name?'_

Here it is.

 

_'I'm not telling you._

_Who the hell knows you._ ‘

 

_'I am going to fuck you, at least tell me who you are.'_

Fair enough .

 

I had to stop going around and having fun with  the worst scum of Cambridge. Sooner or later, with my arrogance I would offend  the wrong person. But I was in the third year and then it was like a personal tradition.  Inaugurated the academic year with this anonymous sex.

 

This one I had recovered in one of the remotest pub, the farther from campus, the less bullshit risked to do.

 

I had spent half an hour before I had  the courage to meet his eyes.

 

But he stared at me with no control e no shame.

 

He looked at me as if he never had seen a man before me, and actually saw the environment that he frequented, I had not struggled to believe it.

 

Interesting boy, tall, dark hair and messy just enough to make me want to abuse of his companionship , before lock me in the corridors  of the spotless ,most prestigious college of England – well you should agree, one of the two most prestigious colleges of England ( 1).

 

And in any case, when one would ever view a skin like mine?

 

When I entered the bathroom I called the usual seven minutes.

 

If he had not come in that time frame I would come out and say goodbye.

 

It had been four.

More than last time,

less than the first.

 

I was losing it?

 

I walked over to the door to look out and check it, when  it  suddenly opened.

 

Four and a half minutes.

 

We exchanged a few words that together did not make a sentence and then I had his hands everywhere.

 

That 's what I like of this poor trash,

They know what is worth to risking jail.

And although they are all queers , they exude masculinity from every flap of skin.

 

They have no grace.

They have no rules.

 

And for once, what I was, it counted for nothing.

I represented no more than a hand on the wall.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

**Cambridge, 10 March 1937**

 

 In or out.

 

Life is made of moments of indecision and choices suspended on the edge of a logic that does not exist and perhaps unnecessary.

 

I stared at the window of the tea room next to the library and I kept wondering if the bug was in or out.

Yes, it wanted only a gesture, a careless hand, one blast, maybe wings, to figure out where it was.

 

But I, I stared at him.

 

In or out.

 

To be or not to be.

 

But then, really be what?

 

_'A jerk._

_That's what .'_

When I felt my shoulder moved to direct my arm to the window, the voice of Niall Horan, just set to its most arrogant tone, broke the smoky air of the room.

 

_'Only a fool would give up to the throne of England for an american woman.'_

She was not enough a woman, he had to add the source to give a better idea.

As if giving up the throne of England for an English woman would not be too mad.

 

_'I would let you know that you are calling  the King of England a jerk, I don’t even know if there is death penalty for this.'_

The ability of Liam Payne to not grasp  the true meaning of a conversation never ceased  to amaze me.

He had the ambitious certainty that tidy up a place after a tornado, was enough to revive the silver candlesticks.

 

It was not his fault.

 

All the high English society had the stubborn belief that the appearance of a well-lit, on the day of receipt, would be enough to hide generations of scandals wretches.

 

Or that the well-trained horses were enough to win wars.

Small saddles and tight bridles.

Everything under strict control.

Napoleon was not enough for them to realize that they did not control their own shit.

And even an Empire nearly dismantled after a won war .

 

 

_'Former King._

_Payne. '_

Niall objected.

And he continued.

 

_'Just because he's a jerk._

_He gave up the throne for a woman._

_He gave up the throne for an american woman_.'

 

He ruled again.

 

 I postponed the decision on the insect and intervened

 

_'Maybe Wallis Simpson is not a woman like any other._

_Maybe she knows arts that we do not even imagine .'_

I let that statement tinged the edges of the conversation, of the wickedness and vulgarity, enough to shut up all the audacity to pretend of Horan and the plaster respectability of Payne.

I would have ended there, triumphant in my steel capacity to provoke, if not in the room there was someone else.

 

_'Do not be vulgar,_

_it does not suit you .'_

There it is.

 

Leaning in the doorway arch only with  the tip of the shoulder, his arms and legs crossed, and a look not too intrusive to fill the entire room.

 

Harry Styles had just discovered my bluff.

 

 

He stood there, proud,

never in awe, with a beauty so shameless to intimidate the centuries of literature that were the setting.

 

 

He could inspire each of these works.

And for that it would have enough presence.

 

And while to others he lavish trivial acidity,

I was the victim who he reserved the charisma.

 

 And then he turned to Niall.

 

_'Horan you are so stupid that if I followed your reasoning I should say that your mother is american._

_But, ironically, I happen to have an american mother and everything, in my being ,disproves your theory._

_Among other things, you're not even english, what do you have to discuss so much to the origin of the Simpson? You  will have to explain it to me._

_At least the Yankee have conquered those independence, your people in Ireland are still suffering._

_Instead, I will now tell you the biggest secret of England, and more_ .'

 

He walked past me, looking at me with that damn look of his.

 

Then he stopped behind Niall and, relying on the arms of his chair,

perching close to his ear, he whispered aloud

_'Our beloved king, is not abdicating to an american woman,_

_-even if she is an artist, how the ingenuity of Tomlinson suggested_.’

 

(He helped himself with an elegant movement of the hand, to humiliate me more gracefully)

 

‘ _His problem is not having sex with something that comes from across the Atlantic,_

 _but sympathizing politically for what is a bit 'too much across the Channel.'_ (3)

 

Liam got up from his chair as if he had just erupted beneath a mortar bomb, but before he could chant his objection, Harry was already responding:

 

_'Rest soldier._

_It is not worth being so loyal to a king who renounced at the crown for an american or a german._

_Or worse._

_For both._

_Too much vulgarity._

_Too much, all at once, to profane the dynasty of Windsor_ .'

 

The sounds of laughter of Niall accompanied the silent retreat of Liam.

 

No one wanted to start to discuss Hitler.

Nor even a policy that currently was none of our concern.

 

Or so we thought.

 

And in any case, no one wanted to start a discussion with Harry.

 

Although younger, he was more intelligent, cultured and brazen than all of us.

He had entered my -in our lives, only a few months earlier, who knows where, who knows why, but no one, not even for a second thought he could be just a regular guy.

 

Certainly I would not have redone the same mistake.

 

 

 

 

  
**Cambridge, September 1936**

 I felt his palm pushing on the back of my  hand against the wall.

Jesus Christ, he had already put his hands everywhere and I had not even asked yet

 

_'What's your name?'_

_'I'm not telling you._

_Who the hell knows you. ‘_

 

_'I am going to fuck you, at least tell me who I'm doing it.'_

Well  yes, usually my name worked perfectly.

Nothing let them turn on  as saying my fucking name.

 

_'Louis._

_My name is Louis.'_

 

At least that  was what always happened.

I heard him come closer, his chest against my back.

And with an unsustainable gently, he  leans on my neck.

_'Oh._

_Louì._

_Êtes vous français? '_

Perfect pronunciation.

 

_'No.'_

 

I stammered.

 

Even better.

 

It  came out panting because I was the one who get more excited.

 

And he get in.

 

_'Ce n'est pas important._

_I'll call you  Louì._

_It drives me crazy. '_

 

His voice.

Holy  Christ.

 

Deep.

 

His way of pronouncing my name in two languages together.

 

_Liuì._

 

Only the beating of two syllables, and I was completely his.

 

I was not even able to speak.

 

I was just panting.

I pulled down a curse and he had pleaded

 

_'Do not be vulgar_

_Louì,_

_It  does not suit you_ .'

 

And I was thinking.

 

I thought the guys in the slums did not speak French, they did not know this pronunciation.

I thought, feeling them all over me, that those hands made of silk could not belong to a worker.

I thought the boors do not protesting for a blasphemy and do not smell like Bayles.

 

But then, what was he ?

Most of all, who the hell was he?

 

And why, instead of scare me, he let me feel it even harder?

 

In fact, I stopped even thinking.

 

Even when we finished, he gave up on my back and  the feeling of fullness was absolute.

He did not move, not even I, we were on our pleasure still, as we agreed.

 

How to sublimate it in a silence that separated the surreal moment that we had just experienced and reality-or the almost- reality - of life that had led us there and that there would be swept away.

 

An island of pleasure, surrounded by a sea of silence.

 

Without knowing what the banks of our real lives were distant.

 

When he pulled away from me ,I could with difficulty  put together my senses, and went back to the question that  at that time was crucial.

 

Who the hell is he?

 

I try to stand straight and give me a tone of indifference.

 

Ask a question needed with the air of who doesn't care about anything.

 

_'So  you'd be?'_

 

I asked, staring at the buttons of his shirt.

 

He looked at me smugly but I saw a crease to the side of his lips stretching his smile.

 

_'I'm not telling you._

_Who the hell knows you_ .'

 

 

He looked at me again.

 

This time in a different way.

 

 

He looked at me like I was naked in front of him.

 

No, he looked at me as if I was naked just for him.

 

And then he went on.

 

I saw him with a sarcastic laugh.

I had just be screwed by a stranger.

 

In all senses.

With all senses.

And I was laughing.

  
And I was terrified.

 

The only sad victory that bastard left me, after a few weeks earlier he had taken advantage of me in the bathroom – well the agreement was absolutely consensual and even more but I do not know who he was, and then I was the one who had been used - was the fact that he has paid the bill for both.

 

It was not actually that the victory-and in fact, I would also regret it -, because to be honest I could pay the bill for the entire room with only the weekly allowance when I was  12, the victory was the fact that he paid before joining me in the bathroom.

 

So, from the four and a half minutes that I had to wait, I had to take off the time he has spent  to pay the bill.

 

I am a picky.

 

I love the details.

 

And he practically run in the bathroom as soon as he saw me get away.

 

In substance, most likely, I beat my personal record of conquer.

 

(Actually that night I had beaten other records, for which I was not too proud)

 

And if the boor had not decided to do the gentleman I'd be even fully certain.

 

Too bad that some records could not be discuss in public and so them were to remain only my things, as the calendars of prisoners on the walls of the prison; incomprehensible, encouraging and necessary.

 

I thought about  that, in the yard, during a break between two lessons, while Liam complained about the new schedule of  courses and Niall of his new roommate, freshman and deaf-mute, always the same speeches, always the same complaints.

 

Boredom.

 

Nothingness.

 

 

Actually  I thought on the unknown even during class, in the cafeteria, while playing tennis, while I was brushing my teeth, and as I stared at the book of international relations in the library.

 

More than the record I was obsessed with who the bastard that I was fucked in the bathroom of the pub was –well , he was the one who had fucked me, but in any case the question did not change.

 

He knew my name and was not a worker or one of those mindless who frequented those places.

 

Who the hell was he, it was impossible to understand.

 

He was a stranger and knew my secret.

 

Of course it was also his secret but it was my life that I was worried, not his.

 

It was not the first time that I slipped in one of those pubs to try an easy company.

 

I knew what would be the consequences of what I was doing but I also knew that a story away from my environment, where no one knew my name, it was a risk I could afford to run.

 

But that evening I had made a mistake.

 

It could cost me really much (3)

 

_'There it is._

_That guy._

_The weirdo .'_

 

 

If he did not screaming, he was not happy.

Whenever I was lost on my own thoughts.

 

 

Niall and his inappropriate tone of voice.

 

And right in time the pedantic comment of Liam.

 

_'Look, he is deaf and dumb, not delayed.'_

 

I turned around following their voices, still asleep on my doubts.

 

In fact, I thought of being on the brink of the worst possible madness.

 

I saw him from a distance.

There he is, really.

 

He crossed the grass of the entrance of the faculty, we were on the other side of the porch.

The view could not be the best, a sniper would have known how to make better choices.

The same step stylish, shorter hair, and the same air as an arrogant son of a bitch.

 

He was he, no doubt.

 

_'There it is.'_

 

I concentrated and then I turned to Niall.

_'Excuse me, is he your roommate?_  
  
  
The deaf-mute? '

_'Yes Louis._

_That's him._

_The weirdo.'_

 

Even Liam interjected

 

_'Oh, it is deaf and dumb not retar ..'_

 

_'Liam we understand._

_And now please be quiet._

 

_How you said your roommate is called, Niall? '_

 

(It is also possible that I have a devilish grin appeared on one side of my lips)

_'I told you twenty times Tomlinson.'_

 

_'Add the twenty-first , maybe this time I remember.'_

 

I danced on my impatience.

 

_'Harold._

_Harold_

_Styles.'_

 

 

Deaf and dumb.

That animal.

 

 

Although I wanted to laugh a little bit.

 

I imagined Niall in that room screaming and shouting and swearing cause he could not make himself understood, and the one to take him for a ride.

 

I ignored completely Horan and started following the boor gentleman by cutting off the porch.

 

He seemed in a hurry and it was almost impossible to keep up with those ibex legs.

 

I saw him entering the bathroom of the floor and waited for the classrooms to be filled in and the hall to be empty.

 

At the beginning he knew my name and I do not know who he was.

And that had taken away the sleep and filled me with troubled thoughts.

 

And the bastard had done it on purpose.

 

But now, I knew who he was.

 

Name and surname beating only name.

 

Even if French, even if exciting.

 

(okay, well, better to focus on else)

 

But now I was the one in the lead.

 

 

When he opened the door we clashed, again.

 

It looked like a deja vu.

I told him the same thing.

 

_'Oops'_

 

The same that he had said to me entering the bathroom of the pub.

I said it with that vindictive arrogance of those who was in the lead.

 

Then I looked at him.

And I died a little.  


All of my shy looks, the  smoking pub, the low lights of the bathroom, the effects of alcohol, the craving of sex, the excitement of his breath and his French and the anxiety about what he knew of me and I did not know about him and all about that night was stuck in the folds of my carelessness, was now before me in all its arrogance.

 

It was like looking at Medusa.

My eyes were hypnotized.

 

I looked like a child at the Luna Park.

The rides, the lights, the cotton candy.

 

 My eyes were crazed bullets.

 

Jesus Christ I had become the deaf-mute.

Mouth, eyes, hair, neck, skin.

 

He did not miss the chance and he stole the joke.

 

_'Hi'_

 

Hi, tilting his head slightly.

 

Still with that smile just mentioned and tone soaked in sarcasm that dripped annoyingly now obviously on me.

 

He and his ability to make damn sensual words.

 

He looking at me in that cursed way.

Harry Styles who raped me with his eyes.

With one blink he was stroking my whole body.

As if his tongue was licking every centimeter of skin.

It was the delicacy of a breeze on a wet body.

_'Oh_

_Louì,_

_you look like Alice who followed the white rabbit and do not know which door to choose.’_

(He grimaced and if he was someone else I could thought he wanted to take off my embarrassment)

 

Perhaps at this point it would be appropriate and gentle to introduce myself.

_‘I am Har ... '_

_'Harold Styles'_

I said almost pretending to ignore its importance.

Not even the satisfaction of joining the victory.

 

Of course I had not won a shit.

And of course I had to pay it immediately.

_'Louì,_

_I was a guest in your ass,_

_You are now allowed to call me Harry._

_And I would give you the joy of a replica,_

_but right now I'm late for my class.'_

 

Then, meanwhile he said goodbye, he said that One thing.

_'See you around my Lord.'_

 

I had a feeling worse than when I went away from the pub.

He knew so much more about me than what I knew of him still.

 

And I had underestimated him.

 

 

I should have been terrified and instead but my brain drummed on one sentence.

 

And I would give you the joy of a replica.

And one disastrous question.

 

When?

  


  
  
  


 

 

 

 

Notes

 

(1) Of course, the other one is Oxford.

Oxford was founded in 1096, Cambridge in 1231.

The sarcastic tone reflects the multi-old competition between the two prestigious universities.

 

 (2) Edward VIII was King of England and the British Empire from January 1936 to December of that year.

The official reason for his abdication in favor of his brother Albert - up the throne as George VI- was his relationship with actress Wallis Simpson, bourgeois, but mostly american divorcee -the king of England, by the time of Henry VIII , also head of the Church (which is the same Henry VIII married six times is one of those follies which is full).

To marry Simpson, Edward was forced to renounce the throne.

A few months later, in March of '37, his brother gave him the title of Duke of Windsor, a title that it fell too Wallis when in June became his wife.

There are suspicions that the reason why Edward was removed from the throne was not only his passion for Wallis.

Everyone knew of his sympathies for totalitarian regimes, in particular for the respect that he had for Nazi Germany.

In fact, the former king was sent to the Bahamas as governor for the entire period of the war and returned home only after the conflict ended.

 

(3) Here the discussion is wide but I will try to summarize it as much as possible.

In England the laws against homosexuality have always been hard.

In reality it is only one law, the Buggery Act, dated 1533, to the time of Henry VIII, and included the death penalty for the crime of sodomy.

Only in 1861 the death penalty was replaced by imprisonment.

It is for this law that Oscar Wilde had to endure imprisonment.

The law was abolished only in 1967, thirty years after the events she’s describing. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Run Alice, Run!

“I shall be punished for it now, I suppose, by being drowned in my own tears’’

from Alice in Wonderland

Lewis Carroll

 

**Cambridge, September 29, 1936**

 

_'Louis._

_Fuck,_

_Louis.'_

 

I heard the sound of Liam’s voice , I looked around but I could not see him.

All the sounds were as tight as in a bubble of water, but I could see only sky.

 

I was  stuck.

My back into the sea.

My look into the sky.

 

And I listened to what the motion of the water gave me.

I  did it all the times when I was a kid, afloat in the sea, with my belly up.

Was that, the feeling of semi-consciousness, that I loved.

That  night, I couldn’t escape from that feeling.

 

I could heard the sound of Liam’s voice, but I could not see him and, at some point, I felt the water pull me down, and I screamed.

 

When I woke up almost catching my breath from the false apnea, I found him sitting on the bed, I felt his hands holding my shoulders.

 

_'What the hell is going on?_

_You scared me .'_

 

I was still short of breath.

 

_'Because you're a chickenshit Payne.'_

 

 

_'You talk! You that a moment ago screamed like a terrified little girl._

_I'm going back to bed, do not have another panic attack .'_

 

I immediately knew I scared him when I saw him sitting on the bed.

But I did not want to give him too much importance to my unusual screams during sleep.

 

It was only 3:22 a.m.

 

I slept a little less than three hours and I had  already seen hell in sleep.

Okay maybe not hell just yet but I'd seen it really bad.

 

The room was becoming too sweltering for me so I went out to smoke some weed .

  

 

All the fault was on that fucking insect in the bathroom sink.

 

And Harry Styles.

Of course.

 

I was washing my hands and that damn  insect was there.

It was in the sink where I should brush my teeth.

 

I stared at him thinking how to get rid of it because, seriously, I would not brush my teeth with that thing in the sink.

 

The only solution was to kill the insect with water.

Turn on the tap was enough to let it die drowned.

 

I was a fucking genius.

 

I opened gently the tap so it will taste the water but not die immediately.

 

But it had already felt the danger and instinctively moved in the opposite direction to the water.

 

I opened more and it panicked, began to flee furiously.

 

In that exact moment, while I stare at it, I felt the terror.

 

It  was in a hopeless situation, completely exposed without an alternative plan.

 

It was repeating the same useless movements .

 

It was.

 

If someone had discovered my secret.

I would not have been better than the insect.

I was stuck between the desire to save it  and the ‘it’s already dying and it’s just a bug’ thought.

 

Then it all happened in a blink of an eye.

 

Just before closing the tap, I saw water inexplicably increase and the insect being sucked, and while I thought what was happening, cause maybe I could save it and wondered what will it be, I heard his voice.

 

 

_'Hello My Lord. '_

 

 

Harry Styles has opened the tap.

Harry Styles has screwed my insect.

Harry Styles has taken even this satisfaction.

 

Fucking sadistic murderer.

 

_'Still in Wonderland?'_

 

I looked at him with hatred in my eyes.

 

I think it came out as a irritated grimace.

_'What are you doing here?'_

_' I'm brushing my teeth.'_

(Simple and concise)

 

_'No, what are you doing in the bathroom on this floor?_

_You freshmen should use yours.'_

 

Inevitable morning sassyness.

Tomlinson Trademark.

 

_'But this is beautiful, clean and big'_

_'But is not for freshmen'_

 

He fucked the insect.

And he could fuck me too.

 

_'But I can meet you here.'_

 

 

My eyes load up with horror and terror together.

(And also something else,  certainly something else did.)

He noticed my reaction and added, without fuss

 

_'Don’t bother._

_I already checked._

_There are just you and me here._

_You are quite pale, Loui._

_Maybe you should worry about yourself._

_Have a good day my lord. '_

 

It always ended with me  watching him leave.

It was also becoming quite frustrating.

I decided that the situation should change.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Cambridge, September 29, 1936**

_'It was not my idea, I am pretty smart  but it was too clever even for me.'_

 

It was not like Harry.

He understood I was playing with him by ten minutes in the other side of the tea room.

Since he had noticed my presence I would mime improbable gestures and moved my lips slowly.

He knew exactly what I meant, but he didn’t laugh, never stood up and had no oversight of humor.

He simply rolled his eyes, looked at me and went back to the book on his crossed knees.

 

We had met only three times, always in the bathroom.

 

And in none of the three I was able to say a full sense sentence.

 Except when I accused him of being in the wrong bathroom, very clever.

( Excluding panting and swearing, off course, I was in perfect for that .)

 I began to worry that he may thought I was some sort of vegetable delayed.

 

Stay there while gasping and making gestures was not exactly the best way to change his mind but I had a single argument in my pocket and had to do so much with little.

 

And so I came closer.

 

Pretty face and a murderess look.

 

(Kind of )

 

 _'Harry.'_  
  


I said greeting.

_'It was not my idea, I am very gifted but it was too clever even for me.'_

 

The gaze was steady and the tone almost indifferent full of elusive inconsistency.

(I flew over the very gifted, not to give him the satisfaction of having seen details)

 

_'Who is the genius tho?'_

_'Niall.'_

_'I don’t understand.'_

 

_'It’s like your friend needs an answer before he even finished the question.  
Probably he is not used to full sentences, just monosyllables._

_Because when he asked me which side of the room I had chosen and I hesitated, he asked me if I could hear it. He asked me screaming, because Niall think that a deaf person is not someone who lacks hearing but a person who can’t simply heard well, and so he believed that if he shouted I would have responded with more diligence._

_And so I thought that I would rather be deaf instead than listen to his nonsense for all year._

_And I made it clear, in gestures, that I cannot hear what he was saying and wrote him I am deaf._

_I heard him swearing for a while cause his roommate was retarded but then he stopped._

_Since then I live in silence and without anxiety by conversation. '_

 

 

He was leading  the ''complete sentences'' game.

 

But in the race ‘’look like a jerk’’ I was the one who definitely was winning.

 

And I was going to score the touchdown.

 

_'I would say that the I am very gifted thing doesn’t make you honor.'_

 

 

I couldn’t believe I actually said such a thing.

I could not believe that I looked even more silly.

 

_'Thanks little lord, I wasn't hoping for this, you know, friendly – direction.'_

Oh, his blood had splashed into his brain after that.

 

He wasn't pale anymore.

_'As for Horan and his current certainties, I would ask you to keep the information on my gifts for you, I mean auditory and speech skills._

_It will come out, I will betray myself sooner or later ,and after that my physical safety will be at risk, because I doubt he will take it well, that's why I'd rather postpone .'_

 

He was definitely leading the complete sentences game.

Anyway, since he had pulled it out, I took advantage.

 

I sat on the other chair and said in a low voice

 

_'Speaking of secrets Harry-'_

 

He did not look at me but I kept going.

_'Speaking of secrets, I ask you to keep the way we first met – I hesitated -  for yourself. ‘_

 

Then he looked up.

It was almost annoyed.

_'I do not see what's wrong with the way we met, or rather, crossed by chance._

_It is not inappropriate, outside school, for two guys go to drink a whiskey down in the city._

_But if you prefer, I'll keep it for me. '_

I was completely petrified.

We had spoken only three times.

 

And all the three times he has teased me.

 

And when I wanted to talk to him and I tried to speak, he became cold and formal.

His answer was perfect, if I could choose one, I would have that.

 

Yet he bothered me,

cause he disoriented me.

  
The idea that I had done on him, before this conversation, was absolutely wrong.

He did not seem comfortable and he was also to do it again, leave me there in the grip of my doubts.

But this time I was faster, get up before him and put my hand on his leg and held him.

 

_'Stay._

_I was leaving anyway._

_And now it's up to me to buy some drinks .'_

_'Good evening then.'_

 

He confirmed my doubts.

 

He went away because he was not feeling comfortable and wasn't joking at all.

 

I was inexplicably furious.

I should be the one to surprise him.

And he has to change his mind about me.

But I was the one who asks questions to myself.

That kid was driving me crazy.

 

\-------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------

**Cambridge, October 2, 1936**

 

Two weeks after the beginning of school, finally Professor Spencer began with his lessons.

 

The problem of Erwin Spencer was not knowing or not knowing how to explain the topics.

 

To teach History and Historical Criticism in Cambridge, to the sons of the British aristocracy, future political class of this country, be the best teacher in the world was only the basic requirement on the curriculum.

 

The problem of Professor Spencer is that he did take a bit too enthusiastic about his job and he never missed an opportunity to clear his role in who was on the other side of the chair.

 

The fact that three-quarters of his class was composed by the future leaders of the empire, however, inhibited him and so he ended to assert his role with who – poor him-  was not noble, or not exactly wealthy but often thanks to grants study and / or charitable and / or miracles.

 

That morning he referred to  Stanley Lucas, whose only crime was to be the son of a father far more ambitious than him, wealthy of birth, thanks to the last three generations of men able to use at its best the cotton fields and hand work at no cost, guilty of being there because in the last six months he had passed the test of history by miracle or he had to attend again, or he has chosen to follow the advanced class.

Of course for Professor Spencer it was a reason enough to point it out to everyone as incompetent.

 

The fact that I was there for the same reason did not concern him, just see the future leaders theory.

 

I t would be one of the usual lessons on Friday, in which everyone thought how to occupy the weekend, while I thought of Harry Styles, on what damn psychic dysfunction he had  and / or how to convince him on that replica that I thought he has promised me –I know this two things are not easy to approach and indeed, them show that personality more disturbed was mine, but unfortunately, these details on my physical and mental health problems are needed to understand what was my mood that day.

Sometimes, between Spencer speech on the American Revolution and Elizabeth I, I had  flashes of lucidity where I thought, if, this morning in the bathroom, Harry had just teased me, even if the problem was that I remembered the other , bathroom, and if he liked it at least a tenth of what I liked ,and if he was not kidding.

 

Only after we had spoken, almost we confided, when he seemed a poor imitation of himself, we were not met again .

 

In fact every time, after school, I went to Niall’s , but he was never there.

 

Horan never knew where he was, because he would have to write to ask, and it would be too weird.

 

And so I think about the real existential drama of my life, despite Spencer disturbing me constantly with his nonsense on that fucking Elizabeth I, among other things also a virgin, you'll understand  , such a queen!

 

Until he stopped attracted by a raised hand.

 

_'It you’re in first year, do me the courtesy to wait until the end of the lesson for ask a questions.'_

 

_'It' s because I want to do you a favor that  I want to ask you my question now.'_

 

Yeah well, I was not exactly in my best physical and mental condition, but now he was exaggerating.

 

Because there were only two possibilities.

 

Or was I.

Or was him.  
  
Or I was crazy to believe to hear the voice of Harry Styles during a boring Spencer’s lesson ,

or committing suicide by interrupting him and then contradicting him  front of everyone, was Harry Styles.

But from the penultimate row where this morning I was able to hide, I could not see it clearly.

 

_'Can you please repeat me your name?'_

_‘I never told you, actually._

_But anyway, it’s Harold Styles.'_

All right.

 

One good and one bad news.

 

I was not crazy.

He definitely was.

 

_'Tell me Mr. Styles, what is your problem? '_

_'You say that history is a set of events that come back cyclically.'_

_'Yes exactly.'_

_'I am hopeful that you were not going to support the thesis of Giambattista Vico (1) because a sermon on Divine Providence I don’t think may suits you, but I was wondering, how do you interpret, as part of the events that are repeated cyclically, the interventions of natural factors that change the course of history? '_

_'What does it mean exactly?'_

_'Well, you claim that the failure of the Armada and the collapse of the Spanish Empire was inevitable, because it falls in the' fate 'of the great empires, and if that day of 1588 the wind cross the Channel had blown against the English incendiary ships rather than in favor, which would have been the cycle of historic renovation?_

_Because I'm pretty sure that the Spaniards would come up the Thames and would only remain the wigs of Elizabeth Tudor .' (2)_

Even from where I was sat I saw the bloody look of Spencer .

I sat straight in the chair, I won’t miss the answer.

 

He was still but controlled, an expression of blood but seems to have already chosen how to argue.

 

_'Mr Styles,  I understand you excess of ardor, you are young, enterprising, maybe you know even some laws relating to capital punishment but I must first point out that at the time -and in fact even today- the rulers are not executed them with each other. '(3)_

_'Oh sure._

_She thought it too, Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, I mean._

_And I'm sure she justified her cousin Elizabeth, by considering her an illegitimate queen, after all it was her throne to be usurped before her beheading. '(4)_

Spencer was not controlled, he was furious and just a step away from losing his temper.

 

The whole class was silent.

Instead I was getting exciting.

In the true sense of the term.

 

(I am a sensible person)

  
  
And yes, I really wish it was not, but I could hear the low voice of Harry never losing in shades of color, he was seraphic, monotonous but incredibly sarcastic.

 

And I was getting excited.

 

Because from where I was – damn me! - I was able to  barely see his profile and his back and to recognize his crossed long legs.

 

The professor thundered again.

 

_'Mr. Styles, I remind you that Mary Stuart was convicted after a fair trial.'_

_'Professor Spencer excuse me, but a process in which a Catholic Queen is not judged by his peers but by a group of English lords and most of all protestants, more than a fair trial is a farce.' (5)_

_'The story is however, not made with ifs and buts.'_

_'Not even with prepackaged theories older than two hundred years._

_I understand that you did teach this history for decades, instead._

_I’ve already study that in high school, do you think you can tell me something I do not know yet,_

_because if the idea is to bask throughout the semester in the memory of how great Britain is,_

_I just take a trip to the statues in the streets of London and the effect, believe me, is just the same. '_

_'Do you think you know more than me Mr. Styles? '_

_'Absolutely no._

_I just want to focus on details you tend to ignore._

_I think you can teach me much more than that, I just do not understand why you refuse to do so. '_

_'Are you going to be so critical for the entire semester?'_

 

_'It depends._

_Is your intend to impose on us the story according to the pillars of traditional certainties or want to teach us how to stand in quicksand torn between the doubt and the truth? '_  
  


And here it happened.

Spencer laughed.

Very loudly.

_'It will be an interesting semester._

_I'll try to be able to not disappoint you ._

_I should have imagined when I read your side note on the first test, which you would not be an easy customer. '_

 

I saw Harry's hand tapping his pencil on notebook and his profile relax.

 

He was,

perhaps,

laughing?

 

And at that moment I thought that I had never really seen him laugh.

When the lesson ended he slipped away with discreet elegance.

He definitely knew how to enter the scene and how to get out with class.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Cambridge, October 4, 1936**

 

_'Did you hear about the guy who almost humiliated Spencer to class?'_

 

Liam did not seem to expect anything else since he came back in the room.

It was obvious that the news would spread like a tissue of the Times.

 

Professor Spenser was known, feared and loathed by all those who had had the (dis) pleasure of being his students.

 

And the fact that someone had stood up was made illogical and already legendary.

 

Now they all spoke about him every time, everywhere, always.

I did not know even what was true and what was not.

 

Everyone was talking about Harold Styles.

 

They thought about him.

They spoke about him.

They asked about him.

 

Welcome everyone in my life , plebeians .

 

It bothered me.

 

Only even the idea discomforted me, people talked about him.

He was just the new guy in town, a fun story and who knows what else.

It bothered me the idea that he was at the center of attention.

 

I was jealous.

 

I was jealous even of the idea that they looked at him.

 

 

I was jealous of the idea that they discovered his existence.

 

I knew that not everyone would be crazy and would have been obsessed with Harry Styles with the same ease with which I had done, but the idea that even one unnecessary students in Cambridge, who I cannot either know or give a name, will began to look at him, or look for him, among the people, it drives me crazy.

 

He was mine.

He was my obsession.

He was to remain only mine.  


And this, more than anything, gave the idea of how absurd was my obsession.

_'Wait._

_You were there. '_

 

Liam and his unnecessary questions.

 

_'What?'_

 

_'You are in the same class, with Spencer._

_You were present at the show .'_

_'There was no show._

_Spencer was explaining and he spoke making him a question and then contradicting him in the response and ..._

(Liam continued to look out the window, as if what I said did not concern him, and he start laughing.)

 

_.... if you do not care don’t ask me questions'_

_'No ,no, sorry , don’t  you remember? The guy in question is Niall’s  roommate.'_

 

_'Oh yes._

_True. '_

 

I continued to look messy, pretending to barely remember his name when in fact I probably should say with absolute certainty the exact number of hairs that Harry had on his head, even if I did not counted them one by one.

 

_'Well, Don’t  you remember?'_

_'What?'_

_'C ’mon Louis, where the hell do you live?_

_Niall told us that he is deaf and dumb. '_

_'Oh yes.'_

_'He only found out two hours ago._

_He searched all across college._

_Even in the library, but he is not here. '_

 

Then  I remembered.

What Harry said  days before in the tea room.

It will come out, sooner or later , I will betray myself

and after that my physical safety will be at risk.

_'And now  where is Niall?'_

  
I asked worriedly.

_'When I left, he was coming back in his room._

_Sure  that sooner or later he will come back '_

_'And what's so funny?'_

_'The deaf-mute, a little while ago, I saw him get into the dormitory._

_And now Horan will be already  inflating him like a zeppelin. '(6)_

I hate running.

 

I have always hated running.

 

Those who run are in hurry, and  I have not ever.

Those who run are exited, and I'm always bored.

Those who run don’t want to lose time, I love idleness.

 

Those who run are insane, children, servants, thieves or cowards.

Those who run care about something, or someone...

 

I hated.

 

Tho.

 

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

(1) According to the Neapolitan philosopher Giambattista Vico, history is a set of courses and Appeals that do not involve repetition of individual events but the return of similar historical forms, in which more and architect is the Divine Providence.

 

As if it were a continuous process of events destined to repeat itself.

 

(2) In 1588 Philip II of Spain ruled over what is known  in history as the empire over which the sun never set, because he was so extended, thanks to the American colonies, not to be any time of the day in which every possession  was in the dark.

 

That's thanks to the naval fleet, called Invincible Armada.

 

On August 8, 1588, he faced the English ships of Elizabeth I in the English Channel.

 

The Spaniards were more numerous, both the number of ships that of men, but the British commanders had the idea to set fire to three of their ships and send them like giant torches against the armada, which was forced to retreat and withdraw.

 

This changed the course of history.

 

(3) The divine right of kings is a principle dating back to the Middle Ages, that a monarch should its power to the will of God, not that of the people, the parliament, the aristocracy, or any other authority, and that every attempt to restrict his powers was an act contrary to the divine will.

 

From here also it makes it impossible for a sovereign to kill an another, except in certain exceptions, such as high treason.

 

(4) Elizabeth I, Queen of England, was the daughter of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn.

 

In order to marry the Boleyn, Henry became Protestant and head of the Church of England.

 

When Elizabeth came to the throne, as a Protestant, he was accused by the Catholics to have usurped her cousin Mary Stuart, the Catholic queen of Scotland.

 

 

(5) Mary Stuart lived in captivity and had no dealings with the outside world to prevent him have another attempt at the throne of Elizabeth I.

He was still involved in the Babington plot, although they had only consented to his release and not the murder of her cousin.

 

The law at the time stipulated that an accused person be judged by his peers and of course none of the highest English lords was like the Scottish Queen Elizabeth and the same could not judge it.

 

The lawyers made appealing to the fact that the "crime" had taken place in England and, using this excuse, they could proceed and establish a tribunal formed by the most important nobles of England, and this is what Harry refers.

 

(Elizabeth I, terrified to send to die a Queen consecrated, postponed from month to month signing the execution order. He signed February 1, 1587 - February 1,. Some are just coincidences)

 

(6) The zeppelin is a type of rigid airship developed in Germany in the early twentieth century.

It named after its inventor, Count Ferdinand von Zeppelin.

 

For most of the notes I used as a source Wikipedia.

 

Have not fallen into the details, it is the battle between the Armada and the English fleet that of Elizabeth I and Mary Stuart.

I tried to be as concise as possible in order not to bore you while summing up the events and their meaning.

If in doubt just write me or you can directly read up on Wiki, which is even more detailed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lads!! this story is getting more exciting !!  
> if there's any question you can find me on my twitter @stylinson_perry
> 
> see u soon!!


	3. down down down

_Alice to follow him down the hole and into Wonderland, but he constantly stays one step ahead of her. Led on by curiosity, Alice follows the elusive rabbit even though she does not know what she will do once she catches him._  
  


  
  
  
**  
****Cambridge, October 4 th  1936**

 

_'Louis._

_fuck_

_Louis'_

 

I heard Liam’s voice and I was wondering why the fuck I continued to wake by Liam’s voice.

 

Was it a curse?

_'Louis are you alive?'_

_'What stupid question is it , Payne?'_

 

Then, when I tried to scream, I felt my body screaming over me and with the view still clouded by something that I did not remember, I was trying to resume contact with reality.

 

The only  thing I could really feel was the pain on my back.

 

 

Wait a moment.

 

It was not exactly the back.

 

It was the coccyx, I felt a stabbing pain in the coccyx.

 

When the pain allowed me to regain consciousness, I found myself at the end of the second flight of stairs that separated our plan from the one where Niall and Harry were staying.

 

I had made the first  ramp running.

The other one directly on my ass.

 

And now it was hurting pretty damn bad.

 

My ass was hurting me and this time it was not a good thing.

 

Falling I must have banged my side because if I tried to bend it hurt too.

 

Needless to say, I felt the worried voice of Payne mixed with smothered laughter of those who had witnessed the scene.

 

Then I remembered what I was doing before throwing myself on the stairs without any sledge and I thought at this point Niall had already swollen Harry's face.

 

I jumped up betraying all the suffering of my vehemence, but at least the pain was sharp and short, and I began the race -Well, more than anything else at that point I crawled awkwardly down the hall.

 

_'But can I at least know where you're going?'_

 

-I want to disconnect the fists of Niall from the face of Harry Styles, Liam, because he  have fucked me in the toilet of a pub in the suburbs and now he look at me as if he wanted to rape me and I look at him with the expression of those who would say ' do it, here, now 'but at his eyes it appears to be the expression of a squid delayed with a young sociopath girl’s face of a mad fairytale writer.

 

But obviously I could not answer this, so I only said

 

_'If he hurt him Niall will be expel. '_

_'And since when you give a damn about Horan?'_

 

I looked disappointed and offended by the comment but did not answer.

 

I had something more urgent and more important to think about.

 

I had already imagined Niall with Harry's neck in one hand and with the other trying to beat him with his fists.

Perhaps he had already landed down and even kicked , all because of my fall.

 

I began knocking at the door like a madman -that is what I was - screaming to Niall  but I heard his voice inviting me to enter.

 

Because of course if he was beating Harry he could not let go and come and open the damn door.

 

Then I broke into the room dragging a fury - because I was suffering too.

 

Once I came in, I didn’t know if I was more surprised by the spectacle or the way they were looking at me.

 

 

 

 

Harry was sitting on the bed with his legs stretched out and feet crossed and was reading.

Niall was at his desk and was preparing a cigarette with some weed.

 

They were acting like two normal students in any room of a Cambridge college.

 

I was the weirdo.

 

_'For fuck’s sake Tommo, what’s happened? It seems that you have beaten.'_

_'He' s just fell as he ran for the stairs._

_He thought you were going to beat Styles and wanted to stop you get expel. '_

 

Liam had really believed in that shit.

 

_'And when did you give a damn ‘bout my education Louis?'_

 

Niall also felt the need to look like an idiot.

 

The only who could believe to such a lie was sitting on the bed impassive and ignored me effortlessly.

 

Also the fact that Niall wanted to beat him but then he was clearly held back from doing so, did not seem to bother him or intrigue, or worry him.

 

_'Sit, you do not look well at all.'_

said Horan.

 

It was when I leaned on the bed, and Niall began to prepare the joint, while Liam was about to close the door, I heard Harry talking

_'There is too much noise here, I'm going to read in the library.'_

 

He does not even look at me and walked away as if nothing happened.

 

I was literally jumped off the stairs to save his ass and the only ass that cares was mine.

 

 

And I could had broken my rib.

And he didn't even bothered to look at me.

Not even with his damn way of looking at me.

 

 

 

At the beginning  it was exciting, now was just getting frustrating.

 

_'But didn’t you want to beat him –as you said- so hard to make him cry?'_

 

Liam instead  wanted to know exactly how it was going to end of the story.

 

So Niall told us.

 

_'I was really pissed off, and when he came I got up abruptly._

_And he did not say anything but were his eyes that fucked me . '_

_'That means that he fucked you with his look?'_

 

Like if my life depending on it .

 

_'He was safe, quiet._

_He knew I was pissed but he was not afraid, so I left it alone._

_He stood proud, knowing that I would beat him and I knew that he would let me._

_And then for the first time I heard his voice._

_He just apologize and then he began to read. '_

_'Horan enchanted by the charm of Harry Styles ha!'_

_‘That’s  bullshit Payne,_

_I'm curious._

_I never talked with him cause I thought he was delayed and then I find out that he humiliated Spencer, so before putting hands on his face I could give him a chance .'_

  


Horan had chosen a really good time to say the first sensible thing in his life.

 

Or just I had never really listen, before his talk does not concern Harry Styles.

 

What is certain is that throughout the corridor of my floor, on the stairs while I was flying on my safety and even while I crawled to get here, I had cherished dreams of glory.

 

It had to be my triumphal entry, and instead, for a change, I ended up looking like a jerk.

 

I was wondering if he was there, however, he believed, to me that I wanted to prevent Horan to be expelled if he knew that I had crashed, nearly killed, only to save him and his damn ass.

 

And if he had understood why he kept ignoring me?

 

I even went so far as being jealous of Niall’s curiosity .

 

And I was at this point where you let it go or end up in a very deep abyss of obsession.

 

But Alice knows only one possibility.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  


**Cambridge, October 18 th 1936**

 

That was not possible.

 

There was no way that I was seeing a show so irritating and surreal.

Niall Horan who laughed like hell whenever his interlocutor spoke or gestured.

 

And not because Niall Horan did not ever laugh ever, on the contrary, he  was the most exhausting and dazed demonstration that risus abundat in ore stultorum (1) was not just a Latin phrase but a theorem of absolute truth, what was not possible is that the adorable and lively speaker was Harry Styles.

 

That was him to amuse so much.

 

And yes, I was still on the street, hidden behind the window of the tea room, and stared at the scene as a furious freak and Harry had his back but I saw him move and speak, and I realized that I could recognize the curly shape everywhere.

 

And he was having a lively chat with Niall Horan.

 

The same Niall of which, less than a month before, he literally said - I'd rather be deaf than listen to his nonsense all year.

 

Maybe coherence was not his forte.

 

Exactly like mine was not the ability to blend in.

I saw Niall waving his arms at me and invite me to come.

 

Horan introduced me in the most formal way.

 

'Louis, he's Harry Styles,

you've heard of him.

Harry, this is Louis Tomlinson,

was my roommate on my first year. '

 

I tried to be cool, extending my hand.

_'We are in Spencer’s class together.'_

 

He shook my hand and I thought it was our first physical contact after a long time.

 

_'Oh._

_Êtes vous français? '_

 

 

I could not believe it.

 

He  repeated.

 

I saw it in his eyes.

 

This dam look.

 

At the same time,

born of the same memory.

 

_'No.'_

 

I said awkwardly,

almost annoyed.

 

I was shocked, look what he done to me with just one sentence.

 

With that single sentence.

 

Whenever pronounced.

It was just a name, my name.

 

Yet between his lips he was an erotic invitation, helplessly and unconditionally.

I was the one who surrender to the inability to control and to resist his voice.

 

I felt my body getting wax and disappear slowly under a flame which no one else could see.

 

 

I melted away while he was burning.

I chose to avoid relegation.

I agreed to play at the risk.

 

  
We stood there, inexplicably able to speak with clarity along with Niall and meanwhile talking among ourselves a language unknown to anyone in the room had not already been in that bathroom.

 

For the first time in weeks, he gave an intimacy that I thought he had forgotten.

 

It was in tearoom.

And he was always himself.

As that afternoon.

 

When he was detached.

But Harry was not the same.

 

He was seducing me in the most subtle and blatant way.

 

Flashes of languid eyes, his mouth dwelling on teacup, his fingers caressing his neck slowly, his legs crossed and his elbow resting on the arm of the chair, to slim the figure.

 

Hoarse voice but soft instead, a controlled tone, those eyelashes that caressed me on every word and lingered on my lips when I spoke.

Even the fact that he never, ever, had touched his hair, despite my eyes continued to look back over his curls one by one.

He did not even want to leave something that could keep as company in my dreams.

 

It was torture and pleasure together.

 

But I resisted and I had left lead in a dance and exciting crowds.

When we left he said he had to go to the library and saw him leave.

 

Then he stopped and asked me if I had a light, I pulled out the matches and went to meet him.  


_'Light me up.'_

 

He said in a low voice.

I read the malice in his eyes.

 

He was God and was beautifully playing with every desire that he knew I would try in the following hours.

 

He came up with a cigarette between his lips and eyes colored of sex- because in his eyes sex was a color-  and touched my forearm as if the match that was burning between the fingers was not enough.

 

Was fuel to the fire, and he knew it.

 

But it was him.

 

He never ceased to be him.

 

He looked at me almost distracted

_'Do not tremble all the times Tomlinson.'_

 

So he did.

 

Every time.

 

Seduced and then made it all a suggestion or spite.

 

And he was right,

 

every time I let myself drag,

 

every time I walked into that abyss of ambiguity and desire.

 

Without thinking.

 

It seemed a very deep ditch.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  


**Cambridge, October 20 th  1936**

_'My lord.'_

(Greeting tone)

 

He had his back leaning against the library shelf.

 

How the hell he had heard me get there?

I was holding my breath.

I had observed him for at least an hour.

 

He went around the literature section of Pembroke ‘s library (2) as a psychotic madman.

 

He took a book, flipped through it, read a page or two or more, and then put it back in place.

 

And so he spent the last hour, wandering from one shelf to another, in the sections of foreign literature.

 

From France to the Czechoslovak Republic, from the US to Ireland, from Russia to Austria.

 

And I was absolutely sure that he had not seen me.

 

But instead

 

_'My lord.'_

_'Stop calling me that Harry.'_

_'Are not you a lord?'_

_'My father is a lord._

_I am only his son. '_

_'But one day you'll be a lord._

_I am just get used to it .'_

 

Contradict him was useless.

It worsened the situation.

 

_'Do you have an eye behind your head?'_

_'I could have noticed you  as you spied on me between a shelf and the other.'_

_'I was not spying._

_You are the weirdo .'_

_'But in a library full of people,_

_you're the only one to have noticed .'_

_'What’s the problem with you? '_

_'I do not know, what problems do I have?'_

_'You take a book, read a few pages, and then you put it back in place.'_

_'So?'_

_'So what?'_

_'It is not a crime.'_

_'But you're weird.'_  
  
  
  


He was still holding tight on heavy volume of Joyce's Ulysses.

He looked at it, sighed and turned to place it carefully on the shelf.

_'If you continue to follow all those that seem strange, you will get into trouble.'_

 

I was already in trouble.

And he knew it.

_‘I am already in trouble._

_And you know it. '_

_'At least you are realist.'_

_'Now tell me why you do this for more than an hour.'_

_'The novels are like old friends Louì , every time you should visit them and remember old times together._

_You do not ever remember the whole story, only the most interesting moments._

 

-He had practically invited to follow him and I saw a tear of sadness in his eyes as he looked up, on one of the shelves of the German section, touched the top of a volume and cocked, as if to take it, then he turned to me-

 

_Mountains of rubbish collapsed, oceans of forgetfulness vanished. The lost woman, the indescribably beloved, was again looking at him with her regal light-blue eyes. ( 3)_

_You know who he is? '_

_'Um, no._

_I'm sorry. '_

_'Hermann Hesse.'_

_'Never read.'_

_'Narcissus and Goldmund._

_I read it years ago, just when it came out._

_What do you read usually Tomlinson? '_

_'Classics._

_Because,_

_I have to .'_

 

If possible it was even stranger than before.

And I started to not feel at ease.

And if I was not at ease I ended up making trouble.

 

_'Can I ask you a question?'_

_'If not for my turn in the books, of course.'_

_'How ‘s that… you are Niall Horan best friend now?'_

_'Oh my God.’_

_'Oh what?'_

 

And then he attacked with the disrespectful and annoying smile.

_'Oh Harry is only mine._

_Niall, leave him alone .'_

_'You fool, I’m not jealous._

(yes, of course  I was but that was not the point)

_I'm just curious. How someone you don’t even want to talk with now is a guy with you having fun, tea and cigarettes.'_

_‘He’s not bad.'_

 

(He said it with clear tone, very annoying)

 

_'I know that._

_He’s my friend._

_I wonder how do you know, since you both speak from less than a month. '_

_'But we've known before.'_

_‘He thought you were deaf.'_

_'You have no idea how many things people say when they think they are not listening.’_

_'He spoke anyway?'_

 

He smiled.

 

_'Innit.'_

 

And I continued…  


_  
 'He talked all the time, thinking that I could hear him._

_‘That’s why  you are so in confidence.'_

_'You see Alice, when you concentrate you are not so bad._

_But I really think you should read Hermann Hesse. '_

_'Ah well sure, No one can be below the threshold of your expectations.'_

_'Excuse me?'_

_'Do you ever notice how you look at people?'_

_'Not really, but I waited for the right moment when someone special like you to notice the drama of my nature.'_

_'Do not be an asshole by the difficult words with me._

_I gave you the cocky and you know it. '_

_'And I was trying to ignore the boring part of the speech._

_And talk about literature, which is usually my favorite part. '_

_'Being an idiot is your best part ha? '_

_'Contrary to what you think my lord I do not spend my life to meditate to humble.'_

_'No ha?'_

_'No._

 

I admit that when I enjoy myself with you around.

 

But there is no sadistic intent, it's just sarcasm .'  
  
  


If possible this irritated me even more.

 

And the more I thought of him conversing amiably with Niall the more this discussion hurt me.

 

He enraged that there were no talks between us that makes sense, that should be getting all confrontation or allure, the tension should be present.

 

I just wanted 20 minutes from Niall in his life.

To find out how what was like to know the real Harry Styles.

To see how his face become when he laughed.

 

I had to face the unfair truth, the bastard play, when he was to have fun.

I was his toy, his prey, the timewaster he loved to fiddle.

 

_'So funny.'_

I replied.

Without tone.

Without intention.

I was about to leave.

 

I was frustrated disappointed and angry.

 

He put his arm on the last library before the corridor and stopped me.

 

Then softly he began.

_‘Do you ever laugh my  lord?_

_Or laugh as  you fuck, without feeling really happy? '_

This time I would not have trembled.

 

_'You  wish you were my slut.'_

 

His eyes turn black.

He became inscrutable.

 

_'Oh no, Louis,_

_Do not think you insult me with words that anyone could use to anyone._

_Do not ever treat me as if I were ever anyone._

_Learn to give a value and not a price._

_You understand the difference between price and value?_

_That's the reason why no one talks to me like I was anyone,_

_The reason why I will never be one of your whores._

_No wealth and no aristocracy can buy me._

_But when you’ll  learn to love yourself, for real, then you can have me._

_It's free. '_

  


The I moved his arm with all my strength.

And I went away this time.

 

He liked to win.

 

And I do not like losing.

We were supposed to hate each other.

 

But there was a problem.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

**Cambridge,  October 30 th  1936**

 

Oh fuck.

 

Fuck you Styles.

 

Pied Piper of magic crap.

Piper of magic bullshit .

 

I love me.

 

Why would not I?

They were all his bullshit.

 

Nearly two weeks after full of silence while I still twist around that nonsense sentence that  took away my sleep.

 

As always.

 

You'll learn.

To really.

Love you.

 

Then you will have me.

 

Small cocky obnoxious jerk.

I knew how much I loved myself.

 

Who the hell he believe he was  to afford to  me in such a pedantic way.

I couldn’t distract from that frustration in any way, I should be able to get rid of it.

I wanted to show him how wrong he was but obviously my vehemence did the exact opposite.

I decided to tackle him that right friday , because I knew where to wait, hidden from prying eyes.

 

The porch behind the hallway of History classroom.

When I saw him I was approaching a tangle of nerves,

I smelled smoke frustration anxiety and excitement.

(That I could not in any way to get rid of)

 

He  had his usual elegant and relaxed way , and when he saw me, also appeared a certain amused grin.

I went to meet him in the same convinced way,  and a determination  that at times surprised even myself.

 

Fuck you Styles.  


I pointed him eyes on, without giving him time to breathe out none of his provocations, I shook my hand around his neck and the other on the stomach, pushed him against the wall and then I threw myself on his lips.

 

I was a fury.

At least I think so.

 

I came just across to touch his lips and felt his strength on my shoulders pushing me away and then, yes, I understood what the fury was.

 

_'What the fuck are you doing?'_

 

He saw  fire in his eyes.

 

I did not even think he could screams .

And from that moment I did not understand anything.

It seemed to be no longer present.

 

I was merely a spectator of the consequences of my stupidity and my deep naivety.

I felt his hand  shaking my arm and drag me along the porch and  through the grass.

 

I had always considered him minute, smaller, leaner, maybe taller, but I never thought he has so much strength.

 

Or I was not trying to wriggle  -and in fact I was on his mercy -  or had an unexpected and illogical force on his slender body.

His eyes burned with fire and ice, was losing his mind , and yet his body seemed still of composure indefinite and chilling.

 

How could he?

 

He took me behind the library.

 

It seemed very strange because it wasn’t a secluded spot, indeed it was in the courtyard outside, huge, and overlooked a wing of the college and many classrooms, any student could see even from the corridors.

 

Only after I knew why we were there.

 

Everyone could see us but no one could hear from far and would have seemed just a simple fight between classmates.

There was no way anyone was close enough to overhear the conversation without be seeing.

 

Even with the fury in his eyes and rushing gestures, he thought with a rationality out of the ordinary.

For the second time in the last 300 seconds I found myself holding in my teeth the same question.

 

How

 could he?

 

He let go of my arm pushing me away.

He not even undid the button of his jacket.

He put his hands in his pockets and leaned with his shoulder at me.

 

_‘Tell me._

_What the fuck you think you're doing? '_

 

He regained control of his voice and his body.

Even his eyes were back to rest on his sarcasm.

 

What was he, stupid?

Does he not understand?

 

_'What do you think?'_

 

I said sheepishly.

Almost in a whisper.

_'I think you're a jerk._

_But I still hope to be wrong._

_Again. What. You think. You’re doing? '_

 

He asked slowly but firmly.

 

_'You made me._

_Don’t act like a saint, please.'_

_‘I provoke you for week now, but I did not think you were so stupid  to jump on me ...'_

_'And what were you planning to get?'_

He stopped the discomfort in his chest.

 

_'I have not finished.'_

 

I can’t see clear, not even dream about give it back.

 

_'Sorry.'_

 

I whispered.

_‘I provoke you for week now, but I did not think you were so stupid  to jump on me in public.'_

The whole sentence surprised me

 

_'In public.'_

 

So if I did in private he would let me do?

 

I felt brave.

 

I raised my head and I regained my usual tone arrogant asshole,

Which I kept aside for when I had to give the best of me.

 

Just because I felt the need to go all the way down into this show him to be a jerk game.

 

_'Oh._

_Poor Harold._

_Always in balance between provocation and mystery._

_And all those beautiful speeches about knowing how to love themselves._

_The last few weeks trying to charmed ._

_And now you struggle if someone has more audacity than you. '_

 

 

Then I wanted to just overdoing it.

 

_'And even ashamed of who you are._

_And then I'm the one who can’t love himself. '_

 

 

While my arrogance was consumed in the last syllables, I looked at him.

He closed his eyes and for an eternal split of time,  I thought I had won.

I thought he was ready to dissolve in front of me all his insecurities.

 

But my eternity was not his.

 

He closed his eyes.

But then he sighed.

 

He,

 

One of those sighs of disgust and intolerance.

It meant that I did not deserve his charisma.

_'When I said that you should learn to love you, I did not mean that you should have groped to fuck us both.'_

 

Then he took on the tone that is used with children.

_'When you will understand that the world does not give a fuck who you fuck but that is just an excuse to hate you?_

_When you will understand that freedom is not measured in what they show but in what you allow yourself to try?_

_You jumped on me because you  wanted to or because you wanted to show me that  you love who you are, did you get this question?_

_Or were you just trying to prove to yourself –or at least at me-  that you're capable of loving you and then take your prize?_

_Cause I will  fuck you  in every room of this damn college Louis but I can see clear enough to know that only behind closed doors we can be truly free. '_

 

I admit that after the last sentence I was not clear enough to understand even the next.

 

 

_'Even Alice knew that Wonderland would have remained just a dream.'_

 

 

The word dream I recognized for logical speech.

He was giving me his back and was already walking.

 

 

He won again.

 

 

And this time he had cleaned up for good.

 

He did not only show me what I am, a dork, but also proved how I deserved it widely.

Not only, he had hinted that I was more naïve than a  fairytale girl.

 

He was also able to confuse me and upset me in a split second.

 

Although it is true that he left me there, tight in the miseries of my naivety  and my asshole way to be, it is also true that he said, without flinching a tone, a sentence that I could not pretend not to have heard and I wasn’t  going to do it.

 

_'I'll fuck in every room of this damn college.'_

 

The fact that my mind had stopped these ten words made me a naive jerk who was sure that I was.

 

But now he had said so  this naive fool would close the door of each room of this fucking college and would have done teach freedom from the only man he would be willing to lose it.

 

\-------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------  


  
  
Notes

(1)   Risus abundat in ore stultorum.

Latin Proverb : Laughs are in the mouth of fools

(2)   Pembroke is one of the colleges of Cambridge.

And 'the third oldest university, was founded on the day of Christmas Eve 1357

-the Same day that Louis Tomlinson celebrates his birthday.

(3)  Narcissus and Goldmund, by  Hermann Hesse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!! Next chapter will be veryyyy interesting !! I will upload asap, around thursday!!  
> As always, you can find me on twitter @stylinson_perry and on Wattpad : https://www.wattpad.com/story/42287382-one-sole-direction
> 
> let me know what you think about it :)  
> Ale


	4. Tum, Tum! And the fall ended!

_(…)  round the neck of the bottle was a paper label, with the words `DRINK ME' beautifully printed on it in large letters. It was all very well to say `Drink me,' but the wise little Alice was not going to do that in a hurry. `No, I'll look first,' she said, `and see whether it's marked "poison" or not'._

_from Alice in Wonderland_

_Lewis Carroll_

 

 

**Cambridge, November 22 nd  1936**

 

_'What are you reading?'_

It 's impossible.

 

Control the surprise or fright.

 

Because we can only control what we can expect and what makes us jump happens suddenly.

 

In few words, all the laws of physics applied to the human body exist just to fuck me.

Harry Styles exists to fuck me either but unfortunately not in the sense that I preferred the most.

 

_'What are you reading?'_

 

In the conciliatory silence of the library in Pembroke, almost hidden in the Moral Theology area-which until now I seriously thought it was a mythological place- collapsed in one of the chairs, while I was fully immersed in reading, that sounds like a bomb in Trafalgar Square.

 

And I obviously jumped.

 

What the hell was Harry  doing in this godforsaken area of the library?

 

(Where I had hidden to avoid being seen by anyone, especially by him)

 

I closed the book and placed it beside me on the chair so that he did not read the back.

I was slightly annoyed about our last conversation and did not want to seem docile.

 

But he looked absolutely calm and relaxed.

He acted as if he has never said those words.

 

_'I'll fuck in every room of this fucking college.'_

 

Which of course it was  the leitmotiv of my entire existence from that afternoon until today.

 

 

_'None of your business.'_

 

 

I told him grumpy.

 

 

_'What are you doing? Reading volumes of theology now?'_

 

_'No, I saw you come in and then I came here looking for you.'_

 

_'But I came in more than two hours ago.'_

 

 

_‘Well, I wanted to leave you a bit of time to become attached to Goldmund.  '_

 

How the hell did he always know everything?

 

_'Why did you ask me what I was reading if you knew that already?_

_'Because I wanted to hear it from you.'_

_'You can do better, how do you know?'_

_'Because I looked on the shelf and there wasn’t.'_

 

 

_'There are more than 500 students at Pembroke,_

_Anyone could take it .'_

 

' _Yeah well, I have good contacts to the lending office in the library.'_

 

 

_'But  you are here since two months.'_

 

_'Well, let’s say that I am very fascinating and I can read people’s soul.'_

 

_'Said the young Narcissus.'_

 

(He was right in both cases, and did not lost the opportunity to emphasize.)

 

  
  
Then it happened.

The amazing thing.

Never seen before.

 

He smiled.

How he smiles.

 

Not embarrassed, not ironic.

 

  

'Some smiles take your breath away.

He, with a smile, took your life.

Right after it was no longer yours. '

 

_'I  don’t want to bother you, I leave you to read.'_

 

Clearly my interest in Hermann Hesse had displaced him.

 

I had the impression that he wanted to ask me something but he felt embarrassed.

 

_'Harry, if you do not need the theology books and you already knew what I was reading, why are you here?'_

 

 

And I was right, because as much as he was hesitant, he wanted to ask me something.

 

_'I wanted to ask you about the Christmas Eve._

_It's something formal or all the students really go ?'_

 

It seemed incredible to me that he was wondering, a student of Pembroke asked me about Christmas Eve. (1)

December 24th  party in Pembroke was a tradition in our college, in that day was celebrating its anniversary.

 

There was a ceremony and then the dancing ball in the great room, exceptionally used for dancing.

 

Every student knew this tradition, first because in many families the college of Cambridge was a choice that passed from one generation to another and then enter it in an institution rather than another was something you did consciously, because in a sense it identified within the university.

 

The Christmas Eve was our pride.

And he had no idea how it worked.

 

It was damn fascinating for someone like me, who grew up in the myth of Cambridge, Pembroke, and the honor of belonging.

 

I smiled to his question but without sarcasm, I did not want to embarrass him.

 

_'We all go._

_It 's important._

_It 's a very important thing._

_Nobody cares about not being home for Christmas Eve._

_Many start the evening, after the party, others leave the next day._

_But except in exceptional circumstances, no one renounce to Pembroke ball._

_And you can invite whoever you want, it is the only day when the college is open. '_

 

 

My enthusiasm did not seem to concern him at all.

 

_'On the invitation it says that the ceremony begins at 5:00 pm but it's a ball that will end later._

 

_Morning coat or Tailcoat? '(2)_

It took me a few seconds to recover from the idea of Harry in ceremonial dress, but I concentrated and I answered without stuttering.

 

(Achievement should not be underestimated)

_'_ _Tailcoat.'_

_'Good._

_I leave you. '_

 

Then I called him back.

_'Anyway ...'_

_'Tell me.'_

_'If you need help for  the tailcoat I can accompany you in Savile Row, is a bit late, but our tailor makes miracles.' (3)_

 

He gave me a smile and said, almost embarrassed.

 

_'No Louis, thank you, I'm fine with clothing , and still prefer the Italian tailors.'_

 

Obviously Louis, do you think that the young Styles not snub the English tailors who dress His Majesty George VI, preferring the Italian tailors, how could you be so naive to think to propose something so grossly traditional?

 

The serious thing was that when he was taking the piss out of me, I thought about it alone, imitating his ways.

 

He went away.

He was weird.

 

It was a strange conversation.

 

But it was the first conversation almost normal between me and him.

 

\-------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------

 

**Cambridge, December 24 TH  1936**

 

_'Hello my lord.'_

_'Christ.'_

  I screamed.

_'Loui I told you not to ...'_

_'Yes I know._

_Do not swear._

_It  does not suit you.’_

(He giggled for citing, the bastard.)

 

_I could have a heart attack. '_

_'Why are you always in absentmindedly?_

_Come away from Wonderland sometimes. '_

_'Now please stop with this Wonderland story._

_And then ... what are you doing here hidden behind the curtains? '_

 

Yeah, what Harry Styles hidden behind the curtains of one of the smoking rooms was doing?

 

 

_'I am not hidden._

_I secluded._

_It 's a little bit different._

_And I'm reading. '_

_'During a party?'_

_'I was bored.'_

_'You don’t know how to dance.'_

I supposed .

 

_'Of course I know how to dance.'_

_'No, you aren’t able at all.’_

_‘Yes I am.’_

_'No you’re not.’_

 

 

By now I was laughing.

 

 

 

_'Yes, as you please.'_

 

He seemed,

irritated?

 

 

_'Then why are you here?'_

 

_'All boring people._

_At least until now._

_Then I saw you ..._

_exactly what are you doing? '_

 

 

Why was I there?

 

Why  the world was not big enough to contain my escape?

 

 

_'I hide myself._

(shit, I stuttered)

 

_From my girlfriend. '_

 

Screw.

Yourself .

 

His eyes bloomed.

And he said slowly

 

_'Do you have a girlfriend?'_

 

There it is.

I was over.

 

 

_'Oh Louì,_

_you should have told me before I fucked you._

_Now I feel so used and teased._

_How could you hurt me like this? '_

 

 

A theatrical cry.

A tragicomic look.

 

A third category act.

 

 

In other words,

so to do something different,

He was playing with me.

 

 

_'Stop playing with me._

_I'm sure you too have a girlfriend._

_You just don’t have the courage to admit it '_

(and fortunately for you is not here in the room)

_'Not really._

_I could say that in my family amorous matters  are... let’s say delicate._

_They are treated in a slightly more transgressive way than normal._

_But if you want me to , I’ll have your girlfriend. '_

_'Nobody will have no one. '_

 

_'Uh._

( He howled. I swear)

 

 _Me or She?_ '

And then he stood up.

 

And I was  speechless.

Suddenly I loved the Italian tailors.

Suddenly any girlfriend across the tent did not matter.

It was not to me to describe him and I would not been able to, cause the right words had not yet been invented.

 

 

_'What?'_

_'You're jealous._

_It's clear '_

 

 

_'Stop it.’_

 

Half a smile slip out on my face followed by an obvious little grimace.

That was exactly what always happened when I imagined myself with her.

Everything, except the half-smile.  


_'Who is she?'_

 

 _'I'm not telling you_.'

 

He rested his chin on my shoulder with a wink.

_'C’mon tell me.'_

_'No.'_

 

He remembered me the night in the pub, when he managed to make me break a record very embarrassing,

only breathing my name on my neck, in another language.

 

And I think that he reminded it too because, with a tone somewhere between melancholy and sarcasm-but maybe I could be wrong on one of two things- and stroking my back with his fingertips under my jacket, with his hoarse voice, almost panting, he asked

_'And tell me, did she gets excited too pronouncing your name in french?'_

 

It was too much.

 

It was really too much.

 

It was already hard to resist to my own memories, mix them to his was going against all laws of nature.

 

All my self-control was going to hell.

 

 

Actually sewing the exact measure on the crotch of my tailcoat, Anderson & Sheppard (4)’s  tailor  had not foreseen the Harry Styles nostalgic moment and then I had to resort the oldest trick in the world, think of something sad -but really sad , like my  dead grandmother  or that Oxbridge match (5) - to keep me from going crazy and / or implode.

 

 

But at that time the only sad thought I had on my  hand, was my girlfriend.

And so I pointed to the girl not pretty and not bad on the right side of the ballroom.

That in no way could stand out among the aristocracy in London.

All educated and raised in the same way, identical in speaking and thinking.

He would have been able to choose any, it would not have made any difference.

 

 

So I pointed to the one chosen for me.

  
The poor Louise Gordon-Lennox.

 

 

And then I looked at him.

Because I knew it.

 

 

I saw his eyes become bigger.

And tighten the lips to keep himself away.

 

 

Then I heard the inevitable laughter burst in his throat and jaw.

 

 

He was predictable.

 

And stubborn.

And damned.

And beautiful.

 

 

It was funny even for me.

Because of course, I knew.

 

He enchanted slowly.

 

 

_'Her name is Louise?'_

 

 

_'Harry please.'_

 

I knew exactly what this information would be for Harold Styles.

 

 

_'Her name is Louise?'_

He barely restrained  the laugh.

 

 

_'Please calm down.'_

_'I want to hear it from you._

_Please say it again._

_What’s your girlfriend name, Louis? '_

 

I took a deep breath and replied, hoping he surrender.

 

 

_'Yes, Harold, even my girlfriend is called Louise.'_

 

I imagined his mind going crazy for pinning every information that I would suffer in the following weeks.

 

In any case he seemed to compose himself.

 

Although not too much.

 

 

 

_'How many bride there will be in your family knowledge ?_

_And on them all, he has to choose the one that has your same name?_

_One day you will be Louis and Louise Tomlinson? '_

 

 

_'Harold I'm asking you please.'_

 

_'There is no end to the wickedness for their children in certain circles._

_Tell the truth, my lord, Would  have you preferred the military school? '_

_'Okay._

 

(I walked away angrily, then sat crossing my arms)

 

 

_C’mon, say it all, have fun._

_So we can get over with it. '_

 

 

_'But there’s no fun if you do not get mad-'_

 

 

_'Oh,_

_If you want I can start jumping around the room in anger._

_Or watch me, I am bringing hysterical .'_

 

 

He mimicked me with a melodramatic  expression.

 

So, now that he started, I did it, for really.

  
The melodrama.

 

 

_'The point is that I should ask for a dance to someone who have already bored me even before saying yes._

_So go ahead Harold, what do you think is worst add this calamity to your games to me._

_What do you think will your sarcasm and your irony compared to a life of boredom which I resign. '_

 

I saw the shadow of seriousness on his face.

 

_'What do you care?_

_She or another what difference does it make?_

_However, you will spend your life fucking  strangers in some godforsaken pub . '_

 

 

I can not explain.

 

 

But that sentence –alone- has hurt me more than all the years that I had hated, the future I had been forced to imagine, tolerate, accept.

 

Cause he said so.

Because he told the truth.

 

And I, from him the truth, I did not want to hear it.

 

He was not the reality, he was Wonderland.

 

 

_'Right.'_

 

I replied.

 

Then nothing.

 

He looked down,

and he stood on his last sentence,

undecided whether that is striking more, he or me.

 

 

 

That  was the same question that I was asking too, actually.

 

Before realizing that it hurt both, cause we were the same.

 

We were rich kids who sought company in the slums.

 

But we were also children of life that came from that misery. (6)

 

It was not a matter of social class, was only the pendulum of fate.

 

The night at the pub would never stopped to belong to us and tell us what we were.

 

 

And how or what we'd be if the pendulum was not made of gold.

 

No money, no position, no future, no culture and sarcasm.

 

Stripped from the tailcoat, the marble staircases, from libraries and tearooms.

 

Two lost souls in the same lie, without a silk veil to hide from the world.

 

And we stood there, mute and helpless on our consciences.

 

Then, after the silence, he repeated the same ballet.

 

 

My instinct exploded and its plausibility put the pieces back together.

 

I shooting moved without knowing or wanting to name the wound that was burning.

 

Then his rationality came, he stopped me holding my arm, freeing us both.

 

 

I heard him sigh.

For a change.

 

 

Then close his eyes in resignation.

He made the grimace on his face at the end.

 

 

Typical of who is going to do something that will regret.

 

 

_'Tonight drinks are on me, my lord,  stay in Wonderland.'_

 

He went out where we were hidden and  walked to Louise.

Not understanding what he wanted to do, instinctively I moved to stop him.

 

He was already halfway into the room and to stop him would have meant to get out of there.

 

And at that time, I was too cowardly to take a step beyond the tent.

 

 

She was looking for me, she had tried all evening, not even a dance I asked her.

 

 

When he reached her, he introduced himself as a friend of mine.

 

He told her that I was unwell and that I had to leave.

 

He stayed all evening and all night, dancing with her.

 

 

Of course he did it just to prove me that I was wrong and he was a wonderful dancer.

 

 

Needless to say, throughout the evening, I had the impression that my girlfriend was falling in love of my lover-or whatever he was- and therefore, at least one thing, me and the poor Louise Gordon-Lennox, we had in common .

 

 

Too bad it was the only subject that we could never talked about.

 

 

I looked at him and thought about what effect he could do to a woman.

 

 

When he should not hide his ability to charm, when he could be the gentleman that he was and shows gestures and grace, and use all the words he knew and the art of seduction without having to mess with his sarcasm, to mask the truth.

 

 

I thought about how amazing it would be to Louise feel caressed by his gentle look and not be afraid to show what he did to her body, or worse, that she must be ashamed.

 

 

Feel the pride of having on the eyes of a world that could not help but look at him, because he was still the stranger and he was nice in a different way, in his naive impudence.

 

Feeling his big hand , while accompanied by the stairs and then greet him showing embarrassment.

 

 

But when I saw him from the window to kiss her hand, I hated her.

 

I hated her with all the pain than in the last few months I had suffocated.

 

Because it was her, because it was him, for all that they mean to me.

 

 

Because she was what I didn’t  wanted and  she could enjoy the one thing that I really desired.

 

 

And for a moment, I dreamt revenge.

 

 

I was thinking that I would give her all the worst suffering that a marriage could contain.

 

 

Just because Harry Styles has kissed her hand.

 

 

It was my innate indifference shattered into something much stronger and more devastating.

 

 

It was not the first time that I was jealous of Harry but when you're jealous of the air, you do not see the air react, you do not see the real looks  slam against.

 

 

Or kissed hands.

 

 

I was not able to not look  the exact point of the sidewalk where the regrettable fact has happened that he has already returned to me.

 

_'If, after spending the evening dancing with me, she want you still, she might be stupid, but loves you indeed._

_If she refuse you, well, maybe she's a little bit more intelligent than she looks, but we'll be free._

_Oh dear.'_

 

 

Oh my, there was irony.

Yes, I knew how to recognize it.

 

 

He did it not to just do me a favor, but maybe because did he not want to see me dance all the evening with Louise?

 

 

Was Harry Styles jealous of me?

 

 

Perhaps, as usual, he was right.

 

I was just exaggerating in Wonderland.

 

 

He took his book from the chair and greeted me

 

 

_'Good Night.'_

 

 

And then he surprised me again.

 

_'And happy birthday Louis.'_

 

 

Louise must have told him during the evening.

Or was it one of those things you somehow knew.

 

But again I had the feeling that something was missing.

 

 

And then I had a doubt.

 

 

And I called him back

 

 

_'Harry, wait.'_

 

He was already halfway between the curtain and the room when he stopped.

 

_'Yes? '_

_'Why didn’t you left earlier?'_

_'Sorry?'_

 

_'When did you start to get bored, you stayed, why didn’t you go away?'_

 

 

He looked at me with the inevitability of something he could not keep, which he could not lie about.

 

 

_'Because I wanted to see you dance.'_

 

 

A light touch under the tent, a tinge of nervousness and he only added

 

 

_'Night.'_

 

 

He did not smile either.

 

 

He wanted me to know he was serious.

 

He need me to understood that he wasn’t joking.

 

 

He wanted me to read it in his eyes that hint of disappointment at being left for something that he had not get.

 

It meant that not only he had saved me that night but he also had to give up knowing that it was something he wanted.

 

And if I didn’t asked he would not even confessed.

 

I imagined jealousy and he gave me poetry.

 

Who the hell are you,  Harry Styles?

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

(1)As I explained, the college of Pembroke celebrates its 'birth' on Dec. 24th .

The author thought she read something about the dance ball but she can’t find any infos. Hope you can forgive if it’s not completely true.

(2) In the Italian dress code there are 2 different suits, called Tight and Frac. Until 6:00 pm, on social occasions you are using the Tight, while after this time you wear the Frac. In the English code it’s a little bit different, they called morning coat and taicoat. A  **tailcoat**  is a coat with the front of the skirt cut away. Over the years tailcoats of varying types have evolved into forms of formal dress for both day and evening wear. Although there are several different types of tailcoat, one of the two main surviving tailcoats, is a dark evening coat with a squarely cut away front. The other one is  the **morning coat** , which is a single-breasted coat, with the front parts usually meeting at one button in the middle, and curving away gradually into a pair of tails behind, topped by two ornamental buttons on the waist seam. The coat is now only worn as formalwear. When it was first introduced, the step lapel was common, since it was worn as half dress. The coat can be grey or black as part of [morning dress](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morning_dress), and is usually worn with striped, or very occasionally checked, trousers. The morning coat may also be worn as part of a morning suit, which is mid-grey with matching trousers and waistcoat.

If you might know something more please let me know!

 

 

(3)Savile Row was, and still is, the way of the most prestigious tailors English.

 

(4)Anderson & Sheppard is really a tailoring of Savile Row.

 

(5)They are called so the races -mainly those boating and RUGBY- between teams of Cambridge and Oxford.

 

(6)The expression the author used is  based on a novel of Pierpaolo Pasolini, 1955. I translated as much as literally possible, in Italian it’s : Ma eravamo anche ragazzi di vita che da quella miseria provenivano ( we were the guy of life who came from that misery.)

 

Pasolini referred to the  young boys of age, who prostituted themselves with men, the  author now only use it to express the plight of people forced to live his sexuality in the shadows, fits relationships and occasional fleeting.

If we consider the condition of economic misery in which berth the situation, you understand better why she has  chosen this term.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... interesting ha? Get ready cause next chapters are gonna be A-M-A-Z-I-N-G! 
> 
> Thanks to My Little Spoon and My beloved Funny, who always be here for me ( even at 4.am in the morning )
> 
> here's my ask! http://ask.fm/AleTommoPayne


	5. Gnam! I eat it!

_`How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice._

_`You must be,' said the Cat, `or you wouldn't have come here.'_

_From Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carol_

 

 

**Cambridge, 9 th January , 1937**

_'Mr. Styles I hope you know that you’re  just a step back to treason.'_

Professor Spencer was sitting comfortably in his chair and was too relaxed to not understand he was joking.

 

His connection with Harry, after the first match, has been friendly at the limits of complicity.

 

He found something to sink his teeth into and, incredibly, he liked it.

 

The only thing that the Cambridge teachers loved most than the aristocratic young scions of England, were the brightest young scions of England’s aristocracy and middle class.

 

And after many years the world would notice.

 

The freest democracy in the world, despite the monarchy, despite the House of Lords by right of birth, despite the dark past.

 

But in 1937 the situation was a little more complex, especially in that Cambridge class, where Harry Styles was inexplicably screaming against Peter Cavendich, guilty of wrong pronunciation of Emile Durkheim, sociologist, historian and now at the center of a dispute around his surname.

 

Let's be clear.

 

Cavendich was one of the worst examples of our generation.

 

Presumptuous thanks to a good fate  -was grandson of a duke from his mother's side, but still first in his succession line - was in Cambridge for an extra title than it already was due him, to bask a degree in a prestigious institution, not for what a statement could mean.

It was not the only one who did a wealth of culture rather than an instrument, many of us were so, but on him was a more pronounced defect, because he liked to show his stupidity  off.

 

He was so inept, he applied also at Oxford and this was a disgrace that no one in Cambridge would never forgive .

  
Across the room, Harry Styles was as far as he could be to such senseless stupidity and has just pointed out, not even dwell on the concept that Peter has expressed – knowing that discuss  with Cavendich was not just part of his ambitions, that the considered demeaning and offensive to his own intelligence- like the detail of pronunciation.

 

 

_'If you only pronounced it properly.'_

 

He said in a tone almost bored but loud.

 

 

_'Excuse Me,_

_Styles? '_

_'I said,_

_Cavendich,_

_Durkheim is pronounce Diurkem, because it’s French.’_

 

 

_'I don’t care to speak French Styles, however you understand who I was referring,_

_What do you think I care to know other languages when half  world speaks mine? '_

_'Careful Peter, no anyone should ever mistake you for an Englishman willing to know more than the British Commonwealth.'_

_'Sorry Styles, but I am part of an elite, not sure I'll be here to be ashamed.'_

 

_'These times of high intellectual level that make me thank not only to being half American, but also to the revolution that allowed me to grow up free from the arrogance of some British aristocrats.'_

 

I checked the half American information and kept enjoy the controversy.

 

_'Mr Styles I hope you know that you’re  just a step back to treason.'_

 

 

An amused Spencer said.

 

_'Your revolution does not change things, in any case._

_I pronounce Diurkam because for me this is the right way. '_

_'I will repeat it slowly just for you, Cavendich, so that you will be able to clearly distinguish sounds._

_DURKAIM is German._

_DIURKEM is French._

_Which one do you think you’ll choose because Diurkam -like you said- is none of them both. '_

 

_'He was German, and if you were not an idiot Styles, you'd know that Lorraine was a German region before becoming French.'_

_'Well, if you insist, he was a French born and grew up in Paris, wrote in French, he felt French, deal with it.’_

 

_'He was born in a German region still.’_

 

_'He was born in a French region, but in any case, yours is not German, is an insult to such a wonderful language._

_You with that R or yours if you go to France you’ll be denounce, in Germany they’ll probably  shoot you. '_

Of course people like Cavendich always have a point of no return.

_'Excuse me genius Styles if we do not all speak the krauts language or the fags one like you do._

 

_Of course, when you born plebeians you must learn to speak more languages and use parts of your body in an extravagant way to be able to not lose privileges.'_

I strongly shook the workbench and this time I was going to get up, I stopped only because someone anticipated me , with annoyance in his voice.

 

_'Mr Cavendich perhaps  you should learn how control your preconceptions and open up to something other than what is granted by right of birth._

_Men like Mr. Styles will never need to sell themselves to get credibility in all lifetimes._

_If you will started to use a gentleman language in my class already, you will_

_cease to offend the title you have , but it does not mean you deserve._

_I think that’s enough anyway.'_

 

 

Spencer's voice was so controlled that in classroom the air seemed to been dried.

 

Peter Cavendich’s face was so pale that his white shirt stood out by contrast.

Harry’s  - who I assumed - was much darker, I could not even see him.

 

He pulled away from the classroom as a fury, I could see him getting away with a step that reminded me of that day, few weeks ago, while he pulled me into the courtyard behind the library, when I tried to kiss him.

 

I was not good enough to see how and why he was so angry and not even because the whole discussion with Cavendich, I had the impression that his voice had a hint of irritation out of the ordinary.

 

Not like when he begun topics discussions that betrayed  irony and knowledge.

 

And I wanted was talk with him, this time I wanted to ask him what was the problem.

I wanted to know him, to recognize  the tones of voice, the color of his eyes.

And not just for curiosity, I wanted to learn, to know him.

 

That week's lesson Spencer was exceptionally postponed to Saturday, and for this there were not many lads around the university, and I had to find it more easily with less silhouettes to recognize, but he was not in any of the libraries and in none of the classrooms, so I decided to go back to look for him in Pembroke.

 

It 'amazing how the simple act of trying to find someone will reveal how much you know about that person.

 

I wanted to find him.

 

I wanted him to understand that I was there.

 

Finding him was my 'I wanted to see you dance',

was my knowing what he was reading.

 

It was my 'happy birthday'.

 

And maybe he does not even know what it meant to me being so interested in someone, learn to read the tone of the voice, the looks, the position of the back, the way of tapping with a pencil on the desk.

 

For once, I wanted to be the one to keep him safe behind a curtain and dance with his ghosts.

I stopped in front of the entrance to Pembroke and I thought I would start from the library and then the study rooms.

I tried even in the chapel and in the cafeteria and bathrooms, and only then, in desperation, I thought of looking for him in his room.

Instinct told me that he wanted to be alone-and this made my research absolutely nonsense - and in fact when I knocked, Niall was alone  in the room.

 

He said, however, that Harry has stopped by in the room, who has not said a word and he has only taken his musical scores from the desk and left.

 

His scores from the desk.

 

I wonder how and why  was always him who ended up surprising me.

There were not too many places to go with the scores.

The music room was on the top floor.

 

 

Fur Elise.

 

When I was little and I took piano lessons, I loved playing Fur Elise because I imagined that they were kids who were running in the house or in a garden.

 

I seemed to hear their voices.

 

And I kept on to study music but I have small hands and with my poor ability to get interested into something that involved too much exercise, study or sacrifice, was too much together.

 

Or maybe it is just one of the many things I have not finished out of laziness or fear or waiver.

Yet I had always liked music and I played infrequently now but listened frequently.

 

I stopped playing Beethoven because I felt I offend him with my hands and my small little grace.

 

And then there were those like Harry.

They were almost made of music.

And you felt in the way they touch the piano.

 

And those like him, I always hated them.

 

Because I always envied the talent but never sought its origin.

 

But I could not hate him, for me he was someone who has what I was missing, he was everything I wanted and I wanted to be, in just one person.

 

Listen to him play was like being in another world.

He caressed the music with the same intensity he lived his life.

And if fell his Beethoven was not enough,

the wonderful show he offered to the eyes was there too.

 

The back straight, eyes passing through the score, long fingers that seemed born to excite the keys of a piano and a look so intently, he seemed to be in Wonderland.

 

And I did not think he could be even better than that until he stopped and turned page.

 

A score that actually never used.

Beethoven only warmed him up.

 

He put his hands on his pants and shook his fists, then opened as to collect all the keys, or perhaps the courage, I saw is arm muscles pull under the wooly, put his hands on the piano and closed his eyes.

 

He began.

He played by heart.

 

He knew Wagner by heart.

Not just a simple piece.

The prelude of Parsifal, by heart.

 

If the word magnificence could have chosen an eternal rest, he would choose Harry Styles as he played Wagner.

 

I did not know if I was more surprised by his skill, his courage or the sophistication of the piece.

He was playing such an incredible work with a rare skill for a boy on his age. (1)

And then simply, at some point, he stopped his hands and touched the keys with his palms.

 

He was aware of my presence.

_'Is there something you can’t do?'_

 

 

He understood but did not turn around.

 

He already had the answer, but held it on the threshold of decency.

 

Just a moment.

Then he replied.

 

I heard him in a low note but thin, a black key.

I heard him say more with the back than with the voice.

 

_'Maybe I don’t know how to love.'_

 

A moment later he turned and I saw him smile.

 

_'And I can’t  draw.'_

 

I ignored the previous answer.

 

We knew that he said so.

 

 

And that was enough for both.

 

 

So  I answered.

 

 

_'What a shame._

_A common, poor, mortal human being. '_

 

_'It' frustrating,  believe me , loving art so much but can’t be a living part .'_

_'To me it always happens with music.'_

_'You know how to  play?'_

 

The I saw a flash of excitement in his eyes.

But also  a surprise one, that  I ignored.

 

_‘ I don’t know how, I just do._

_It's different .'_

 

_‘Then  play.’_

_'After this?_

_After Wagner?_

_Are you crazy? '_

 

_'Well, if you do recognize Wagner, it can’t be too bad .'_

_'I said I can play but I don’t know  how to do it right._

_I didn’t say I don’t know how to listen. '_

_'But I want to hear you play.'_

Because I wanted to see you dance.  


 

Christ!  His eyes were so full of something I had never seen before, how can I to tell him no?.

To don’t’ want to protect whatever it was, to keep him behind that curtain.

 

It was a fucking comma after that 'I wanted to see you dance'.

And I could not deny him again something he wanted so much.

 

_'Fuck off  Styles, just cause today drinks are on me.'_

_'What do you wanna play?'_

_'Wait, Do you think I can do it by heart?'_

_'Oh, right, you want a score, let me see.'_

 

I saw him flip absorbed in all his music and turn on suddenly.

 

He looked at me with a spring day in his eyes , the one where the world stops and there is no time.

As if that was not the same sky from which a storm can be rain , as if it was just another season.

 

_'Would you like a  four hands something?'_

_'It  sounds erotic Harry.'_

_'You're a pervert Tomlinson._

_I think you should know that. '_

_'I would be the pervert?'_

_'So will you?'_

_'Yes sure.'_

_'Well,  let's see what these hands can do now.'_

_  
'Do you realize that you're a living double meaning?'_

_'I don’t know what you're talking about.'_

 

He was laughing and I wanted him to keep going.

_'I start and you’ll follow me.'_

_'I am the double meanings one ha!'_

 

He settled the score on the music stand right in front of me.

 

_'This is your score.'_

_'Why do I play the hardest part?'_

_'Because I know the other one by heart._

_I must have played it about a million times._

_Although this time I think it's different. '_

 

_'Yeah well I guess you're used to playing with people more capable.'_

_'Oh my lord, no, not for that'_

_'I mean, I've always played it  with the same person._

_And yes, she is definitely more capable than me, and you too I guess._

_She’s amazing , superb, wonderful, perfect._

_But let’s say that there’s  a different emotional involvement. '_

_'Don’t you  get involved?'_

_'I would say no._

_I mean, I really love her._

(I felt a tickle of jealousy right where I had forgotten the memory of him kissing the hand of Louise)

 

-then he whispered -

 

_But you know-and I'm about to share with you a unspeakable  secret - I prefer men to women._

_This is a statement of Schubert for Carolina Esterhazy, the woman he secretly loved._

_I've only ever played with my grandmother and I believe that I have never really been in the piece. '_

 

_'Your grandmother?'_

(bastard, I was just about to enter into  a monastery)

_‘ She taught me music and French._

_She is a pianist and French indeed .'_

 

He looked at me smiling with inevitable certainty that flowed from his eyes and he wanted to share with me.

 

_'And I am very gifted._

_But I'm not a genius._

_I learned like playing a game.'_

 

We looked for a never-ending moment.

 

_'My grandmother does no shit  ...'_

 

And he looked at me in disbelief and then laughed

 

_'She is so bloody annoying English._

_Once, out of boredom, she wanted to made herself some pudding._

_But everyone refused to taste it, even the servants._

_She can embroider but I thought it would be better not to let her teach me, you know, I’m  already quite ambiguous and strange this way. '_

 

He looked at me confused,

and almost annoyed.

So I took advantage.

 

_'Harry what hurts you more before, in class, being called  a plebeian or a fag?'_

 

I thought he would react badly,

that would become evasive.

 

But he seemed almost surprised by the question.

 

_'That’s what you think?_

_I've bothered by the vulgarity of Cavendich? '_

_'Well, I understand if you have felt offended.'_

_'Do you  have felt offended?'_

_'Sure._

_Of course. '_

_'Oh Loui._

_You're such a son of the aristocracy. '_

_'I hear tone of reproach.'_

_'It is not._

_I understand._

_That’s how you grew up._

_But I was not offended by this._

_There is nothing wrong with being plebeians._

_The honor, respectability, honesty, nobility, have nothing to do with social status._

_And there is nothing wrong in preferring men, in loving someone of your same sex gender ._

_If a law stop you from doing it does not mean you should be ashamed._

_If around you, others do not understand, does not mean that you should hate yourself._

_You are what you are._

_Be what you are._

_It 'something that can’t change, if there’s  something you can’t show it doesn’t mean that you can’t express, through art, through life.'_

 

He made it seem easy.

He made it look nice.

 

But he did not answer the question.

 

_'So why you were furious after class?'_

 

_'Because I do not like ignorant people who insult the culture of speaking two languages as those in which they wrote Goethe and Baudelaire, with such arrogance._

_I hate people like Cavendich._

_With their condition they only see the privileges and not the possibilities._

_They use culture as an expression and never as a means._

_When they are a few meters from me my anger grows ._

_Some days it is easier to ignore and some others  not. '_

Who knows what Cavendich saw in me.

 

Now I could understand the embarrassment and anger he had felt when I run into him, trying to kiss him.

 

How stupid must have seemed when I asked him not to tell anyone about the way we met.

 

And I could understand how he saw so clearly  my inability to accept what I was.

But now I was there and maybe that score was the easiest way to know each other.

 

_'Let's play.'_

 

And he nodded.

 

Schubert - Fantasy in F minor - Four Hands (2)

 

Now I just had to concentrate on the music and not be distracted by his perfect hands that played next to mine.

 

I do not know if I could play with Harry Styles sat next to me trying to follow me.

 

And I was tense, really, more than usual.

I did not have seemed incompetent.

He played with an unreal delicacy.

 

I do not know how he managed to sound like that, but he looked at the score only to turn pages.

 

He did not even seem human.

He could even listen to me.

_'You’re reading and you're playing._

_Ignore your hands, they have nothing to do . '_

 

_'If I don’t concentrate on my hands I will do a mess.'_

_'And who cares._

_It's called Fantasy._

_just invented it a bit_

_Play it for me._

_As if there was only me. '_

 

He was the one who terrified me.

 

But he did not give up even though I was completely blocked.

 

 

_‘Read it as you would listen._

_Play it from where you want to hear._

_Choose the time and I will follow. '_

 

Play it from where you want to hear.

 

I don’t know if it was him or the music.

 

But my stomach began to ache and just let it goes, and choose, and play.

 

_'Right Louis._

_As if you’re inventing it,_

_Like if  you're falling in love. '_

 

Four hands playing together are really like two people who get to know each other .

 

They 's a story, as two people who fall in love, they love and give pleasure .

Before, when you don’t now, one chooses the pace and the other follows.

Then, when you understand and learn, the pace becomes as natural  as gestures.

 

For the first time I was not just playing,

I was loving with the music,

through music,

and thanks to the music.

 

When I played the last note was like an orgasm of the soul.  


I sighed and resumed breath again.

Only after I allowed myself to look at him.

Still full of music and excitement.

 

Like him.

 

He looked at me as if a part of him was seeing me for the first time.

 

Or maybe it was just a reflection of how I see myself.

Now that I felt I deserved his smile on me.

 

I felt different.

 

I stood on the brink of life,

I could fall or I could fly.

 

And he was there, and in no way I would let  him go of that time without live out the inevitability.

 

Because it was me.

Because it was him.

 

And he was there and I wanted him with parts of my body that I didn’t think they will.

In the back, arms, throat, stomach, flanks.

 

I leaned instinctively, without vehemence but decided.

I was not mad with rage as in the porch.

I was not afraid of him and of what he knew about me.

I was awed by what he saw in me now.

I wanted him to touch as I felt him.

 

I just wanted to kiss him.

 

And I did.

 

I felt his breath close enough to understand that his eyes were already closed.

 

This is why I did not understand right away.

 

 

_'No.'_

 

No fit of rage.

 

No gesture to get me away.

He moved away but he did not get angry.

He looked at me almost apologetically.

_'Not now._

_Not today. '_

 

Not now, not today.

 

 

He never had a now.

 

It would never be today.

I had to be a mask.

 

Of humiliation , frustration and disappointment.

 

All that had happened that afternoon came back and was rewritten.

 

With new eyes of deception and anger.

 

Because that's what I felt.

And he understood and said again

 

_'Not now._

_Not today. '_

 

Almost like a prayer.

 

 

_'Fuck you Harry.'_

 

I heard him calling me as I walked away.

 

Without voice,

without force,

without momentum.

 

Almost for education.

But I didn’t came back.

 

I felt inside all the effort of what I had tried to be.

 

For him, cause he was him, because I wanted so much to forget that I was too.

 

Or maybe even worse, because he made me want to really feel.

I never thought it was the world to be wrong and not me.

And I did not know that some parts of the body tried desire too.

I had never played without hands before Harry Styles.

and yet

fuck you

Harry Styles.

 

You little fucking idiot who think that I not enough.

I entered into the room, took my  jacket and car keys,

no time to hear Liam asking me the first obvious question,

 

_'Where are you...'_

 

and I was already in the street.

 

He did not want me?

Fuck off.

 

He was not the first and would not be the last.

 

Was not the rejection that was burning.

Was what I had felt  before.

All the crap of the last few months.

 

All what I had misunderstood and that I was stubborn to see in my way.

 

He screwed  me and I was tying up to, what the fuck  was I tied up?

 

And from where the hell was coming my obsession that he doesn’t fool me?

 

Months of giggles, ambiguous looks, words put there to be misunderstood and  a sentence at the end of a party just to give me the sop and make me happy and keep to enjoy.

 

And I was the fool who had allowed him.

And because at some point I could not see a shit.

And not in a figurative sense, I did not see a shit.

 

I could not see the road, the buildings, the trees.

Even the glass of my car.

 

I was crying.

 

As the fucking girl of the story I was drowning myself in my tears.

 

My lord.

Piece of shit.

Had he fucked me good for once .

 

At least to honor the damn fall from the stairs I did to save his fucking face.

I saw nothing, drowning in my tears and at one point I started to laugh.

Because nothing could hold me from insulting myself properly.

 

He humiliated me  -again -  and I worried why he didn’t fucked me.

 

He was also right when he said that I was a jerk.

 

I wanted to see you dance, start me up, I will fuck you behind every fucking door, I thought you wanted a replica, It turn me on pronouncing your name in French.

 

I repeated it all, whining in falsetto , to remind me how I was hypocritical.

 

And I laughed.

And I cried.

 

It took me nearly two hours to calm down from laughter and tears, and I slipped into the only pub in which I managed to get to the road without thinking.

 

Even yet I had been there once.

 

I began to drink, hoping that someone interesting will entered.

Then at some point, was the alcohol to become more interesting.

 

But I still had a glimmer of lucidity to think that it had to end with me drunk in a pub.

That night I was supposed to have this revenge sex that I had dreamed on the whole evening.

 

Then revenge of what?,

What was there to avenge?

He didn’t wanted me, enough.

 

But this does not mean that someone else would not have me.

And that someone else would not had me.

 

'You’ll still spend your life fucking strangers in the slums.'

 

I took out of my pocket wallets and money -not necessarily in this order- and dragged myself out of the place.

 

I had no doubt that I could drive, I had driven even without seeing the road, I could do it.

 

 

Cause suddenly I heard a bang and a strong burning sensation under my eye.

 

I didn’t have too bright reflexes  but I had the suspicion that it had been a punch.

 

And then another one on the other side, I think.

 

And something actually stronger and decided to hit me in the stomach.

 

Then nothing.

 

I slumped to the floor, my back against the wall of the pub and I thought I saw a familiar figure in the distance.

 

He seemed to be talking to someone, but I was no longer me.

Or perhaps that he was beating him.

 

Then I was swooned .

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

**January 10 th , 1937**

 

I felt a strong, acrid smell of  sea.

And also an intense feeling of emptiness.

 

But what finally woke me was the cold.

 

I was sitting on the edge of a sidewalk, my back against a mailbox.

An  amazing  feeling of nausea that you feel when you wake up in an unknown place, without being able to remember how –or with  who – I arrived.

 

I had only to turn around to answer at least one of the questions.

I saw him sitting on the ground next to me, on the same sidewalk.

I looked at him as if it was all perfectly normal and I asked

_'Where the hell are we?'_

_‘ Dover.'_

_'And why have you brought me  to Dover?'_

 

_' I didn't bring you,_

_You asked me, my lord '_

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

Notes

(1)

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o0VwJ1f7TpA>

 - considered the first two minutes.

(2)

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nke7WybYrHY>

 - this is definitely the link with the best sound.

The composition here is performed by two men and she thought it would make a better idea that she wanted to give.

P.S. Look at the four hands together and tell me if they are not wonderful.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo.. what do you think? this story is getting more exited day by day!!! let me know what you think about it!!!  
> Ale  
> http://ask.fm/AleTommoPayne


	6. Today was such a weird day!

_…It makes me grow larger, I can reach the key; and if it makes me grow smaller, I can creep under the door; so either way I'll get into the garden, and I don't care which happens!'_

**from Alice in Wonderland**

**Lewis Caroll**

 

 

 

_*** small note: it all happened in the same day***_

 

**Dover, January 10 th , 1937**

_'I try to summarize._

_You treat me like a jerk for months and the first time you decide to listen to me is when I'm pissed, drunk, beaten and shocked and I ask you to make an absurd road trip to a unlikely destination? '_

_'Yes.'_

_nothing compares to you_

_'Shit, it’s better when you win the complete sentences game.'_

 

 

We were on the sidewalk still for almost an hour and it seemed absurd that we were really in that situation.

 

 

I was absolutely unable to remember anything of the night before.

 

 

Harry kept repeating that at some point I had asked him to take me to Dover, it was not even a matter of life or death.

 

 

And, incredibly, he had accepted.

 

The only request that he was accepted.

That is, perfect timing Harry Styles.

 

 

Next to us, my wonderful Talbot with a spread on the front wall of nowhere.

 

 

He has showed me, as a response to the obvious question.

 

 

_'Why are we stuck on a sidewalk in the cold?'_

 

 

And so I saw it.

 

 

_'No._

_What happened to the Talbot? '_

_'I still have problems with the left hand drive._

_I am practically grew up in the States. '_

_'Fantastic._

_My beautiful, wonderful, wonderful, awesome .. '_

_'Louis, that’s how I describe my grandmother.'_

_'You little wimp Yankees,_

_You destroyed my car!'_

_'Oh, you're whining too much.'_

 

 

He said, lighting a cigarette with a certain air of nonchalance.

 

 

_'The front is completely destroyed.'_

_'See! You are exaggerating, it's just bruised.'_

_'Can you please explain me again why and how are we in Dover? ‘_

_'Because , after I recovered you  drunk and unconscious, you had loudly- and in a such unkind way - ordered me to take you to Dover.'  
 _

_'I try to summarize._

_You treat me like a jerk for months and the first time you decide to listen to me is when I'm pissed, drunk, beaten and shocked and I ask you to make an absurd road trip to a unlikely destination? '_

_'Yes.'_

_'Shit, it’s better when you win the complete sentences game.'_

_'I wanted to be polite,_

_I felt guilty. '_

_'You feel guilty?_

_Since when? '_

_'Come on ,I'm not a monster.'_

_'And in any case it was not necessary._

_Do not you believe that I really cared? '_

_‘You weren’t by chance at that pub.'_

 

I knew damn him  would have pulled out  the pub.

 

 

_'In fact I often go there.'_

_'Sure.'_

_'Quiet really._

_I moved on everything. '_

_'Well then can I store_

_I WILL HAVE MY  REVENGE SEX AND FUCK YOU HARRY STYLES AND HIS FOCKINH FRENCH_

_as part of the healing process._

_I am pleased. '_

 

 

 

 

I could actually  said this phrase at some point because of the night-even If revenge sex  was accidentally the focus of my entire disastrous evening, so maybe I had felt the need to say it all loud - and I remember waking up and recognizing the back seat  of my car at one point, I did not remember was him the one I told that sentence.

 

 

_'Oh._

_I got time while I was passing the hangover, to let me go my anger. '_

_'So much the better.'_

_'What else did I say?'_

 

 

He smiled without looking.

 

 

_'I’m not gonna tell you, like ever.’_

_'You broke my car._

_At least tell me what I said. '_

_'No.'_

 

 

He was on his way to irritate me more than the day before.

But by then I had more important things to think about.

 

 

_'Today it is a mess because it's Sunday._

_The workshops will open no earlier than tomorrow. '_

_'Do we not know anyone here, where do we bring the car?'_

_'My family business  is here._

_We got some workers down to the harbor._

_They caring for marine vehicles._

_But they will repair the car. '_

 

 

 

_'So the plan is to wait until tomorrow morning, let them repair the car_

_-because they will not say no to the son of the boss  - and  leave as soon as possible? '_

_'Everything but the joke about the boss's son._

 

 

_They know me, during the summer I came here to understand how the business goes.'_

 

_'What kind of business is it?'_

_'Shipments mostly._

_Private expeditions. '_

 

 

_'Do you already know where we will sleep?'_

_'At the harbor is full of hotels.'_

_'Great cause I did not sleep._

_It starts to get very cold. '_

I didn’t know Dover very well but where Harry had stopped was  the periphery which you passed through coming from Cambridge, at least from there I knew the road.

 

 

_'However, it is not cold.'_

_'You say that because you have the coat.'_

_'Why aren’t  you wearing a coat?'_

_‘I don’t have one .'_

_'Excuse me?'_

_'I went out running and I did not take my coat.'_

 

 

_'Fuck off, how can you run,_

_you went out last night. '_

 

 

_‘Actually I went out yesterday afternoon.'_

_'And what have you done until  last night?'_

_'I looked for you maybe?'_

_'You looked for me?'_

_'Right Louis, in half Cambridge._

_Among other things I left all I had in my pocket to the taxi driver._

_I think you will have to pay for the rooms , I’ll give you my share when we went back.’_

_'No problem.'_

_'So you had to find me._

_You  didn’t understand right away that I was there. '_

 

_'No, I knew you were there ,I figured it out,_

_I just didn’t remember how to get there. '_

  


He did the exact opposite of what I had done.

I, unable to find my way there, I went there alone.

 

I shook my head.

 

 

_'What's up?'_

_'You're a jerk.'_

_'You’re welcome._

_If it was not for me, who knows what  would have left of you. '_

_'For that should I thank you._

_I saw how you faced that bastard. '_

 

 

_'Who?'_

_'The man who was beating me outside of the pub.'_

 

 

_'I thought that was just the same beating.'_

_'Well, drunk sex extremely reliable.'_

_'Yeah, you were about to be hitting  by someone drunker than you by the way.'_

_'What the hell are you saying? I felt his hand,  he was stronger than me.'_

_'No Loui, he was just as drunk as you but most quarrelsome.'_

He paused for not too long and said

 

 

_'Let me get this, you thought he was a criminal,_

_that he was beating you and I intervened to save you?_

_Do I look like a knight in shining armor who went around saving damsels? '_

 

 

 

_'First of all I'm not a damsel._

_And anyway it is what it is, what it looked like. '_

 

 

He burst out laughing.

 

_'Oh sorry, you're the fascinating knight who saves the girl.'_

_'What do you mean?'_

_'You almost broke the door of  my room ...'_

_'Fuck you Harry'_

_'I had not finished.'_

_'Of course, of course there will be the sarcastic part of me that I'm throwing down the stairs'_

_'No well, I was sorry for that actually._

_'So much that you jumped out of the room'_

_'You asked me to pretend I  don’t know you.'_

 

Shit,  that was also true.

  
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

_'Are you telling me that until the end nothing happens?'_

_'Oh no.'_

_'Oh c’mon._

_it's impossible._

_The sexual tension is so clear.'_

 

_'But it's not true.'_

_'Come on, you knew it._

_Narcissus is completely gone.'_

_'But that’s what you say.'_

_'No._

_I am sure that before the end there’s at least a blowjob.'_

 

_'Louis._

_NO. '_

_'What a shame._

 

_I already saw the convent desecrated by an absolute love._

_And a lot of sex. '_

 

 

_'I forbid you to continue.'_

_'Excuse me, how can you choose names like Narcissus and Goldmund without the intention to let him baptizing church and sacristy.**_

** in Italian Goldmund is ‘’gold mouth’ that’s what they are referring of.'

 

 

I felt his step missing next to me,  I smiled and waited.

 

_'You read it all!'_

 

 

Only then I turned around.

And I started to laugh.

 

 

_'Asshole._

_Do you like it? '_

_'Uh_

_No .'_

_'Why not?'_

_‘It's all about Goldmund  that seeks himself and  all the time I thought_ sweetie you're looking in the wrong hole. '

_'Don’t be vulgar._

_It does not suit you. '_

_'Oh it suits me perfectly, but I'm afraid you got a wrong idea of me'_

_'And when are you finished the book?'_

 

 

 

_'Two days after I began.'_

_'So you're fast in many things.'_

_'Do you will ever stop say it?'_

_'Well we'll see.'_

 

 

_'We will see a shit,  Styles._

_You will not touch me anymore. '_

 

_'Well if I touch you now, you will beat even that record.'_

_'Harold, for now on I am asexual._

_As Henry Wotton to Dorian Gray. '_

 

_'Louis, first of all it is impossible for me to see you as asexual._

_And honestly, I always thought of you  like Dorian Gray .'_

_‘Henry Wotton was the lord.'_

_'I did not mean it  for that.'_

_'Hey wait , do you see me as Dorian Gray?'_

 

_'Yes, but don’t get too excited , my lord.'_

He had his back.

How could he?

 

 

I joined him.

And I looked at him.

 

_'Hey, you know what?_

_Yours are all chatter._

_Then when we get to the point in some way you pull yourself back. '_

 

 

_'I have not pulled back.'_

 

_'Oh yes you did, literally.'_

 

 

He gave him my  back walking away.

 

_'It wasn’t a right  moment.'_

_'Oh I know. I know._

_Not now._

_Not today.'_

 

 

I gave him the exact tone he used with me.

As he did with me earlier .

 

_'Fortunately that you had move on.’_

_'No, you keep going and I don’t understand._

_What was the need to tell me of Dorian Gray?_

_We both know it will never be a now and that there will never be a today. '_

_'Yesterday was the anniversary of the death of my father.'_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I had an extensive vocabulary of swear words and insults curses but at that moment it seemed inappropriate for the non-existent estimates that he had of me.

 

 

Even the bad words aren’t good enough for me.

 

 

I stopped.

 

 

_'Harry.'_

I overcame.

 

 

And he spoke quickly.

Too quickly.

 

_'Everything is fine._

_It’s just one day._

_And now is gone. '_

 

 

I felt the embarrassment of my involuntary indelicacy.

I felt that I want to hug him I felt my hands hurting me.

 

 

Then I heard him

 

 

_'Whatever you're thinking of doing, avoid it._

_We are in the middle of a street. '_

 

 

But how the hell?

 

 

 

I could not move.

 

 

_‘C’mon Louis, walk. I don’t know where to go, I don’t know the way._

_And don’t even give me the burden of consular your embarrassment. '_

For all the time I was just a capricious kid.

 

 

If in the music room I had believed in his pleadingly tone I would not have done the whole series of crap that had brought us there, and the thing that most of all I was devastated, was that we were there because he gave me space and freedom moved from his guilt .

 

 

He apologized for the machine.

 

 

And he also was almost  beated by  the guy in the pub.

 

There wasn’t  a jerk worst than me all over the world and yet I was still speaking.

 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

When we got to the port, the situation was rather quiet.

 

 

We came in the first hotel sea view -if you need to do something do it well I thought.

 

 

Harry stood at the entrance of the hall, he was without documents and we  didn’t want to give too much attention.

 

_'Your document please.'_

 

I put my hand in the inside pocket of my coat, nothing.

 

I tried in the outside pockets, where it usually was, nothing.

 

I began to wave and tried in my jacket pockets, nothing.

I panicked and began to touch from abroad every existing pocket, nothing.

 

 

Nothing, fucking anything, it was the only word that accompanied the tragedy.

While I called Harry, I remembered what I had earlier in the street.

 

 

That the day before he has been looking for me in all Cambridge and paid a taxi and he has no money.

 

We had no money, where sleep, how to drive, it was Sunday and I was starting to get hungry.

 

 

When I explained the problem he nodded and asked me if I did know places where to eat.

 

We stopped at one of the inns that I attended when I was there on behalf of my father.

 

The innkeeper recognized me right away and ate knowing that we could pay the next morning.

 

 

We sat on a bench on the boardwalk.

And apparently Harry had not finished with ideas.

 

_'We could do so the same for sleep.'_

_'No.'_

 

_'You'll stay in a hotel when you come here.'_

_'No.'_

_'Oh, then you have a flat?'_

_'No.'_

 

(I was getting nervous)

 

_'You need to sleep somewhere.'_

_'No.'_

 

 

I closed my eyes.

 

Because he knew it.

 

In just a few seconds.

Were enough for him.

 

 

I felt the air stop.

Maybe even the world.

I swear even the heart.

 

 

Then I looked at him.

 

 

He moved his head and smiled.

With his wry smile.

 

 

_'Of course._

 

_Now everything has a meaning._

_Ya hoo, let’s go to Dover._

  


_'Harry.'_

_'No, it's ok._

_Not actually._

_You know what?_

_It is not ok._

_Here we are in this situation because you're a fucking child. '_

_'Did you think I had preserved my virgin until I met you in the bathroom?'_

 

 

_'No Louis, it is not how many people you fucked before me the problem.'_

(Never mind)

 

 

_'So I don’t understand what ii is frankly.'_

_'And this gives me the exact way of your reasons._

_It's not like you had a relationship with a guy in Dover that bothers me._

 

_I am not a  saint and did not expecting the Prince Charming at the counter of a bar._

 

_What bothers me is the play that you made yesterday in music room._

_You've yelled at me and didn’t give me the time to explain._

_And I've been looking for you at the pub because I hoped you waited for me, I thought you wanted to made it clear._

_But you went in the pub because you wanted to make me pay._

_Maybe just behind the same door._

_And when I picked up from the sidewalk your first thought was to ask me to bring you here for revenge._

_But then revenge for what exactly?_

_Because you had heard me playing Wagner?_

_Because we had played together Schubert? '_

 

 

 

 

I felt a strange sensation as he said it.

It was because with a German pronunciation it sounds harder.

 

_'Ok._

_you are right._

_all right._

_Except for one thing._

_I did not go at that pub to spite you._

_It ‘s just that it's the only one where I managed to get there, while crying._

_And right now I hate you, because this morning I wanted to die._

_But you did act like shit and weird for weeks and my doubt comes back. '_

 

 

And I let him  there.

 

 

Because he was right.

 

 

I was the usual asshole boy absolutely unable to take no for an answer.

That made it a tragedy and felt the hatred of the world as a conviction.

But I did not mean for him to let me pay for it, I did not want to argue with him now.

Because he did not know how much -and how long - I were punishing myself alone and nonstop.

 

How much hate I saved for me every time my thought  came on that ‘not today’.

 

 

 

_'Louis._

_Fuck_

_Don’t do it again._

_Turn around this time. '_

 

 

_'What do you want?'_

_'No more arguing._

_Do not make me apologize._

_And you know the hostess and I cannot afford not to eat._

_I am already cold, I cannot  get hungry too. '_

 

I didn’t want to let go.

Not even lose.

So I went back.

 

 

_'Do you know what bothers me Harry?_

_That is true, I am a little spoiled and conceited rich._

_I am self-centered and utterly indifferent to others._

_But I have never hidden._

_At least I did with you._

_But you don’t know anything else._

_And you cannot always give the blame to my shitty character,_

_You cannot fill indifference and talk to superiority,_

 

_because you know as well as I do that the problem wasn’t just my impatience to kiss you,_

_but my impatience to fuck someone else after your refusal, and not because I am a child,_

_but because what really bothers  you are the words SOMEONE ELSE . '_

_'But ...'_

_'I have not finished.'_

_'Ok.'_

_'You don’t  look for someone for all Cambridge just because you think he decided to take a nostalgic tour of yours places of the heart.'_

 

 

He clenched inside his jacket.

He played the ‘I’m cold’ card.

 

 

 

_'What do you want Louis?'_

_'You know exactly what I want._

_I want you to admit it. '_  


_‘Aren’t all my action enough?'_

_'Frankly, not._

_And in any case, which actions? '_

He took a deep breath.

He stopped the tone of seriousness.

 

He was going to fuck me, now I understood.

_'' Let’s have a game._

_I grant you a question._

_And then I'll give you an answer. '_

_'You're playing with me.'_

_'Maybe._

_But when you promise an answer it is obvious that it will be sincere. '_

I just have to negotiate, and it wasn’t so bad.

 

I wanted sincerity, and I could try to take it.

 

_'I accept this only because I have one since the Christmas Eve.'_

_'Do you want to know if I had your girlfriend.'_

_'No asshole, but you could save the kiss.'_

_'What do you care? She is devoted to you and to your blue eyes.'_

 

'She is.

Not you.'

 

_'Oops.'_

 

 

 

_'That night, while we were talking about Louise, you told me that the love issues in your family are sensitive and are treated in a more transgressive way  than normal._

_What did you mean?'_

_'My mother would never force me  to marry someone who I don’t really love.'_

_'Does she know that you prefer ...'_

_'No Louis._

_We’re  transgressive but not so much. '_

_'But it is a rare thing in our environment.'_

 

 

_'Yes, my mother has always been a pioneer.'_

_'What do you mean?'_

_'At 19 she dropped Boston and went to be a nurse in a field hospital during the war._

_There she met my father, they fell in love and got married, but my grandfather didn’t take it very well. '_

_'Just cause your father wasn’t  American?'_

_'Oh no Louis,_

_the ancestors of my grandfather came to Massachusetts with the Mayflower,_

_he is descended from an aristocratic English family._

_What he didn’t like about my father wasn’t  ‘English’, was ‘gamekeeper’. '_

_'Oh.'_

 

 

_'When, after my father’s death, my mother returned to Boston with me, she and my grandfather had learned to ignore the pride and I was for him a new chance.'_

_'How your father died?'_

He stiffened.

 

_'This is another question Louis.'_

_'Sorry.'_

 

  
He slid his hand on the bench,

only a finger to tangle absently

-but only to one indiscrete eye - to mine,

did not turn around, he continued to look at the sea,

and he added lightly

 

 

_'Not now._

_Not today.'_

 

It was my turn.

 

_'And if we spend the afternoon in the station?'_

He looked at me with one of his flashes of inspiration in the eye.

 

_'It’s  indoor and warmer._

_It does not seem as bad idea._

_But let it  become evil. '_

_'What do you mean?'_

_'We sit in the waiting room and fool those who leave.'_

_'Is this your idea of evil?_

_Exactly how old are you, seven? '_

 

_'You say so because you've never heard me  do it.'_

_'Now I'm afraid.'_

_'Come Virgil.'_

_'Virgil?'_

_'Let's see if you know.'_

 

 

 

 

_‘ It’s the Divine Comedy. '_

_'I'm impressed'_

_'' Amateur. '_

 

 _\---------------_  
  


_'Let me tell you, your obsession starts to become disturbing.'_

_'Well of course, for you they are all drunk.'_

_'Oh, c’mon._

_Louis, he was drunk. '_

_'Why are you doing this._

_I saw the scene._

_I know that you've beaten him. '_

 

_'Do you really think I’m so stupid to go against one of those boor?_

 

_Louis, I was afraid of Horan. '_

_'And you'd let them beat me?_

_After than I almost broke my coccyx to save your face? '_

 

_'No._

_I would probably cry and ask for help._

_But it was not necessary._

_Because he was just drunk. '_

_'Yes, but the drunk beat me and stole my wallet-maybe not in that order._

_So he had not to be just a good person, as you keep thinking. '_

_'How can you know that he stole your wallet?'_

_'Cause I didn’t have it anymore?'_

 

_'Maybe you lost it.'_

_'Yes, of course, after someone beat me outside  the pub.'_

_'In any case, my lord, do not never count on me in a fight._

_It’s very unlikely for me to decide to risk my own face to save yours.'_

_'Ah well, thanks._

_I won’t forget that.. '_

_'I need my look.'_

_'Of course, to find your own future and beautiful wife.'_

_'Why do you think she will be beautiful?'_

_'Well, if you can choose, choose a beautiful woman.'_

_'I will still be  vagina repellent anyway._

_It would be better to find an interesting , isn’t it? '_

_'If you prefer._

_You are lucky._

_You can choose.'_

 

_'You keep saying that and don’t see the tragedy in this.'_

_'What does it mean?'_

_'It means that I might choose an interesting woman that will be my company for all my life and maybe I will care, and even then I would hate myself, because it would mean to force someone that I care of  to live with a man who will never love her, not ever really attracted to anything, with whom she had fleeting sex  for one purpose, and he will focus thinking about having sex with Dorian Gray. '_

_'Do I have to remember you  who I’m going to marry ?'_

 

_'At least it’s not your fault and the sense of guilt will not be yours.'_

_'So are you saving the face for the boor slum?'_

_'No._

_I want  a diplomatic career._

_And I need my face to appeal. '_

_'Oh c’mon , who do you think you are? Elisabeth of Austria?' (1)_

_'She fascinated entire peoples.'_

He smiled at me and I smiled back at him.

I could not continue to tease him knowing he would be perfectly capable of enchanting entire peoples.

 

I still believe, however, that he had beaten the guy outside of the pub.

 

 

 

 

_'I have another question.'_

_'No._

_It_

_Was_

_Only_

_One. '_

_‘C’mon, I will answer too.'_

 

_'You always answer to my questions Louis._

_I ain’t  gain anything. '_

_'Yes, but you don’t know if I always tell the truth._

_Don’t look at me like this, I'm an asshole. '_

_'Ok._

_Deal. '_

_'Oh._

_It  was easy.'_

_'I might have a question from a bit'. '_

 

 

_‘ Well._

_Mr. Styles is  curious to know something about me. '_

_'Stop  it Louis and  ask this fucking question.'_

 

_'What did you- really- think when I have fallen into your and Niall’s room and,  when I was thinking he wanted to beat you?'_

_'That with all the people that was in the pub that night,_

_I had fucked the most dickhead of them all, and it was pretty  hard. '_

_'Is this really what do you think? '_

_'Yes._

_And then I also thought that you were a marvel with a cracked rib and that if there weren’t  Niall and your weird friend who spoke for you, I would have you also like that._

_And in fact I had to run away, but I spent an interesting quarter of an hour in the bathroom of my floor. '_

 

 

 

Needless to explain the effect that such a sentence would have on me.

 

 

_'Oh no._

_Oh God._

_Come on._

_We are in public. '_

_'I'd give you my jacket, but I'm dying of cold.'_

 

I had absolutely need to distract myself.

 

 

_'Okay._

_Ask me your question. '_

 

 

_'You're just the kind to let take off immediately the tooth.'_

_'No, I'm one who likes to pay his debts._

_And I absolutely need to distract myself. '_

_'Tell me about the guy from Dover.'_

 

 

I knew.

 

 

_'You do  know how to play really good boy.'_

_'And you have no idea how I play poker.'_

_'He’s an employee of the company that my father owns here in Dover._

_It began by chance a normal evening, like a couple of years ago.'_

_'Two years ago?'_

_'Two years, yeah, but we saw each other only in the summer._

_And every now and then I stopped during the semester._

_And if something else happened  I didn’t restrained myself. '_

_'You are such a slut Tomlinson.'_

_'I told you that I'm an asshole'_

_'And then?'_

_'There are a lot questions.'_

_'Because you are stingy in the answers_.'

 

_'And then about a year ago I stopped coming.'_

_‘Is a double-  meaning answer? '_

_I burst out laughing._

_'No._

_Are two  double truths. '_

 

After the station in the afternoon we returned to the harbor to dine at the inn but then the cold began to be insistent.

 

 

Several times during the day I offered to give him my coat but had always refused, saying that would be too small and that at that point we would have been cold in two.

 

 

At the station, however, I had persuaded him to lie down a bit on the seats in the waiting room and I had  put it on him and he had not refused.

Only now we were out and all the locals were closed or would have been shortly and could not stay in the street so undressed.

I saw him completely unable to recover from the cold, you could see it in his skin and bones.

 

 

There was only one solution and it was exactly what I had been trying to avoid  all day.

 

  
  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

_'Harold Styles.'_

 

Bravely he pulled a hand outside his jacket and handed it to the landlord.

 

We showed up at Simon Fletcher’s door very well after the dinner time.

 

 

If I had been alone I would have died on a bench in the port of Dover.

I would do anything in order not to be back in that house.

 

But I was not alone, and it was all my fault if Harry was in that state.

I trembling leaned him against the wall next to the door of the apartment.

 

When Simon opened the door he only saw me.

_'Oh._

_What a great honor._

_The young Tomlinson at my door._

_Tell me , how can I help you? '_

_'I'm stuck in Dover until tomorrow._

_Outside it's freezing cold, can I sleep here? '_

_'As if I could leave you out in any way.'_

He entered and left the door open.

 

_'But I warn you, I'm not your whore tonight.'_

 

 

I gritted my teeth in a grimace,

I did not want Harry to hear.

 

 

But it was not the only thing that night I'd have to sketch.

 

 

I went out to let Harry in  and I closed the door behind him.

The reaction of Simon was obvious, predictable and understandable.

 

 

_'Oh look, you've got the courage to take your boyfriend.'_

_'It's not my boyfriend, is a fellow of Cambridge'_

 

_‘He seemed too good to your standard.'_

 

 

Another grimace,

Another sketch.

 

 

Harry was standing in the middle of the room, still consumed by the cold, his hands hidden in his jacket again, unable to keep warm.

 

 

I saw Simon approach a bit too much after the presentations, without giving him his hand.

 

 

_'You're also dying of cold._

_If you want I can keep you warm tonight. '_

_' Don’t._

_Over do it. '_

 

 

_'Oh, did not you brought him to reciprocate the hospitality?_

_Because honestly  he just looked like a prize. '_

 

 

I saw Harry tense up even more, and this time not from the cold.

 

 

_‘ He is definitely too much for you.'_

_'Well, you were not too much for me, and yet.'_

_'He is too much even for me._

_Did not you just say it? '_

 

_‘Fuck Tomlinson, stay on the couch._

_There is only one blanket, has to be enough._

_And try to don’t be here tomorrow morning. '_

 

Simon went into the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

 

 

 

_'The way he speaks to you is unacceptable.'_

He spoke softly but clearly.

 

 

_'He has his reasons.'_

_'I don’t care, you should not let him talk like that'_

_'Every shovelful of shit that he pulls on me, believe me, is well deserved.'_

 

I watched him as he recall on my last words but keeps to tremble.

_'Now I take care of you.'_

I let him sat down on the couch and without remove his jacket  I wrapped him in a blanket.

 

 

I recognized the cold on color of his lips.

 

 

I ignored my moves with great ease that would tell more than I was willing to do myself, and I put the kettle on for tea and took two cups from a shelf.

 

 

I could feel his eyes on me and knew what he was thinking.

 

 

But it did not bother me, if there was one thing I knew was that his eyes certainly never judged.

 

 

He watched, spied, noted the small print, but he did get to know and never used what he knew - and he understood right -  to make judgments, except when it was a provocative jokes, but just to get a better understanding of what the limit was.

 

 

The embarrassment and inhibition that I had on him, they had gone when we played Schubert.

It was the confidence with which he had come to seek in me the missing piece.

 

 

When he realized what was locking and departing me, the fact that certain dullness I had nested on without me noticed that, the way I react   to my sexuality and to the music itself, according to rules written by others, without thinking that my body and my sensibilities were to express what I was, not limit it.

 

Perhaps it is from this that its charm came.

 

 

And his talent, not only in playing, but in living.

 

 

There was Harry, the resting calm, that the world could not bribe him, or spoil.

 

 

And I would have changed my mind and then I changed my mind.

Because nothing, with Harry, was never predictable.

 

 

I sat down in front of him on the coffee table next to the sofa.

 

 

_'Please tell me you felling better. '_

_'Yes, after the tea it is always better.'_

_'Are you telling me that just because I asked you please, do you?'_

_'Yes._

_But now we are warm and you'll see  I recover soon._

_We also have a great blanket, what do you want more?’_

Instinctively while I stood up I put my hand between his face and neck to feel the temperature, I was afraid that the fever was coming, and I felt a shiver.

 

_'Harry you aren’t getting better, you're still shaking.'_

_'Oh no, that wasn’t the cold.'_

 

 

I had to move my eyes because his look was unsustainable.

 

 

What the fuck was wrong with me?

I was mad for weeks.

I had looked for him , I had tried with him.

 

I had accused him of hypocrisy.

Now I was shocked?

 

 

No Louis, you damn little shitty dickhead .

 

 

I wanted to see who he really was, I wanted to force him to open up, I had practically raped him to let him looked at me that way and now I had fear, shame, what the hell was happening to me?

 

 

In the other room there was the obvious demonstration that I was not able to get attached to anyone.

 

 

Yet even less than twenty-four hours before I was locked in the car, crying of anger and laughing of frustration for this incredible kid.

 

And now he was here, he looked at me that way and I lowered my eyes.

 

 

Or was I a bloody coward, or I was the kind of person who is obsessed with what they can not have.

 

_'So at  what time?'_

_'Pardon?'_

_'At what time does he come out  to go to work?_

_He said he doesn’t want to find us so maybe we should get some sleep now._ '

 

 

If I could not hold his look  it did not mean I didn’t wanted to.

 

 

And most of all I was not a coward.

 

_'Okay.'_

I said.

 

I pulls off my  pants, stole the blanket and lay down on the couch.

 

 

_'We need to sleep but you are die of cold._

_Take off your pants and lie next to me. '_

_‘Are you crazy?_

_It’s freezing cold._

_It’s not the time._

_Not now and not today._

_Still not here. '_

 

_'I am not trying, c’mon._

_I just want to play a game._

_You'll thank me later  for my pants._

(He looked at me with suspicion)

_C’mon  babe, do you trust me a little?'_

_'No._

_It’s your fault if I'm in this mess.'_

_'Just for once, bloody time, trust me.'_

He sighed.

 

 

As always when he knew he was about to do something he would regret.

 

_'Okay, but I am almost frozen._

_You must be very persuasive. '_

I wove to his legs.

 

 

_'This Tomlinson looks just like try to do more.'_

_'Then if you don’t want to you can always tell me the third no._

_Let's say I'm not offended, I am accustomed '_

_'Okay well, how this game works?’_

 

I began to move only with the pelvis.

I was practically rubbing on him.

 

 

And I tore him a short smile .

 

 

I knew that with a little insistence my little mischievous Harry would come out.

 

 

 

_'Ok._

_Tell me the rules. '_

 

 

He spoke already with a dirtying the voice, and I knew why.

 

I felt perfectly  what was changing my voice too.

 

I put one hand on his hip and the other one on his neck.

 

_'The hands can be moved only from the hips up, you can’t touch lower this  boundary of either you or me._

_Who comes first loses._

_Are you in?'_

_'I'm in.'_

_‘You should know I never lost this game.'_

_'Yes, but that guy isn’t so good.'_

 

 

I laughed because as usual he understood it all.

 

 

And then I went to kiss him.

 

 

I was the usual silly boy.

 

 

_'Wait.'_

_'I can’t believe it.'_

_'My rule,_

_No kissing. '_

_'I've never known one more asshole than you Styles._

_When you will let me kiss you, you will regret all this ... '_

I could not even finish the sentence.

 

Strong and convincing move by his hips.

 

 

I had forgotten the effect of his hands on me.

How had he managed to put them literally anywhere.

 

His pianist fingers slid on my back as the night of the ball.

The inside of his thigh caressed my side, he was so  good, I had to know.

 

 

I slipped something between an ‘oh gosh’ and a laugh.

 

 

_'Shhhhhhhh._

_Don’t  overdo Tommo._

_Or he comes out with a baseball bat and kill us both. '_

 

_'I begin to think that it's worth it.'_

_'Stop risking jail just for the foreplays.'_

I felt his skin almost frozen warming up under my hands.

I knew perfectly well that would be needed just two syllables.

 

 

Who had prepared the victory in a foreigner groan.

 

 

But the thing that ever sent me out of my mind was to hear how much he wanted me.

 

For the first time, with a force that was becoming arrogance, he tormented me with no way out simply moving the hips.

 

 

We were one step back to the madness to have each other.

The same exhausting game in recent months.

 

 

And we did a massacre game in which we tried to resist us.

 

I felt his cheek accompany my hands sinking into his hair.

 

 

And I expect to win or to speak and sank his winning shot.

 

 

But he had no intention to return into that bathroom.

 

 

Not now.

Not today.

 

Not again.

Not like this anymore.

 

 

Everything had changed.

 

 

He put his hand between my face and neck and came closer.

And he breathed into my mouth with a hoarse honey voice.

 

_'Sometimes, I get doubts about the existence of God'_

_'But what...'_

_'Shhh_

(His other hand against my mouth)

_I have doubts about the existence of God._

_But then I look at you and I think that inevitably there must be a God,_

_because Nature can’t  be as diabolical as to create something so beautiful and forbid it._

 

(He approached again by stopping my face next to his more strongly and then he spoke in my ear, his voice hoarse but weakened by the excitement and to effort to detain it.)

_Nothing compares to you . '_

It was a groan.

But not detained.

 

 

I clung to him so tightly that I thought I'd broken him.

 

 

I couldn’t believe I come upon him without he had touched me.

 

And that with the same moan and the same grip, he had come  over me a few seconds later.

 

 

We had not done anything.

 

There had no kisses,

we had not been one inside the other.

 

 

It was nothing compared to the night in the pub and then why do I felt it was infinitely more powerful and intimate that night?

 

 

Was  perhaps this the right way to have love?

 

 

I did not want to think about it.

I did not want to know.

 

 

_'The beginners luck Styles.'_

_'What do you mean?'_

 

 

His voice was still chocolate that melted in the mouth.

 

_'You've won babe,_

_Who comes first loses._

_And I never lost. '_

He had not yet detached from me.

 

_'Oh._

_I don’t know._

_But I think you've won._

(Then he came close as before)

 

_After all I had to cheat._

(still with a faint voice)

_I had to use a lot of words to convince you._

_You just panting to make me come. '_

My senses were no longer mine.

 

And I started again after that sentence but he got up.

 

_'Maybe I should wash my underwear._

_And you too. '_

 

 

We went back on the couch with  pants on.

And certainly there would be a second round.

 

He lay down next to me and turned his back to me.

 

 

He was going to be the usual Harry again.

 

The one stuck between indifference and seduction.

 

 

I thought.

But then.

 

_'I'm not turning for being an asshole._

_I just like to sleep this way._

_If you want to hug me, you can spoon me , I love it. '_

And you can’t explain it.

When it really happens.

 

 

When you feel on you all the hopelessness of the human being condition.

 As you feel your body slamming forcefully against the walls of your soul.

 

 

The exact moment.

When  you know you love.

 

 

 

 

**Dover, January 11th , 1937**

 

 

_'I believe that we will get no more than a couple of hours._

_At the latest in early afternoon you can leave._

_But the car bodywork  has to be fix in London. '_

Great, so we will have missed only one day of class.

 

 

_'Oh, and we found this in the back seat.'_

 

Sitting on the wall where two nights before he had crashed into with my car, Harry did not flinch even seeing my wallet in the hands of the mechanic, he looked up to heaven, he gave me a dirty look and went back to pull on his cigarette indifferently.

 

Not even during the return trip, which of course I was driving, he had talked about my wallet, because actually  he had slept most of the time.

 

Only at one point I heard him laugh

_'Do you really  broke your ass to come to rescue mine?_

 

_Fuck you my lord, you're the only man who could please me twice with the same handjob’_

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

(1)

Of course we talk of the Empress Elizabeth, known to most as Sissi, wife of Frantz Joseph, Emperor of Austria.

They said with her grace, her beauty and charisma, she knew how to enchant entire peoples.


	7. Every fucking door.

_Suddenly she came upon a little three-legged table, all made of solid glass: there was nothing on it but a tiny golden key._

  
**from Alice in Wonderland**

**Lewis Carroll**

 

 

 

 

**Cambridge, January 16 th  1937**

 

 

 

****  
  


 He didn't even had time to get up and grab his jacket, and already Harry had slipped out of the classroom.  
  


 

  Damn Styles, I've decided to do some chasing, and this time to reach him I had to be ready to run. 

 

 

 

And I hated running.

 

 

We were not yet able to exchange a few words after Dover.

 

 

He had slept in the car all the time and was not fully awake when I left him in Pembroke.

 

But we had to talk.

 

I did not want the night to Dover was let go to oblivion, I wanted to clarify the situation.

 

It was not like the night in the pub, the memory of which had been a burden to both for a long time.

 

I recognized his voice that I was almost on the porch where a few weeks I had clumsily tried to kiss him.

 

_‘Wait  Peter, beat me will not make you become more intelligent.'_

_'First learn for you I’m  Mr. Marquis, you little shit. ._

_Then, beat you plebeians is something I do just for fun. '_

_'How had to be miserable for you to think that you will never have my intelligence, because you can not buy it, nor inherit it.'_

 

 

 

I saw the strong push of Cavendich and Harry slamming violently against the wall.

 

I felt the blood to the brain and the adrenaline filling  my wrists and my hands.

 

 

I not even ran, walked back under the same porch, as a few weeks before, with the same enthusiasm, but with a different anger.

 

 

 

I was out of myself, again.

I saw myself and I listened but I was not myself.

 

 

 

_'Take your hands off, immediately  Cavendich.'_

 

I threw him away from Harry's body with a force that I didn’t thought I had.

 

 

_'Get your own fucking business Tomlinson._

_Out of my way, it’s not you the one I want to hit. '_

 

 

_'But how cowardly are you Peter?_

_Can’t you see that he’s younger than you? '_

 

 

 

He did not have time to answer me or see it coming,

a moment later he was taking punches as thunderbolts.

 

 

 

_'Cavendich, son of a bitch.'_

 

 

 

 

 

 

He reached in a second and had pulled him down with the first punch.

 

 

He had not even given time to respond that was already on him and had begun.

 

 

I had to take him away - ironically.

 

 

 

He had arrived as a fury,

with two other boys.

 

 

 

I kept him barely while yelling at Peter, who was cleaning the blood on his shirt.

 

 

 

 

_'Touch him again and I'll kill you,  Cavendich.'_

 

 

 

 

When the coward walked away and Horan calmed down, I turned instinctively to Harry who was still on the ground, leaning against the wall.

 

 

 

 

Before I could get close or say anything,

Niall was already on him and was helping him to get up.

 

 

 

 

I could only see them getting away together.

I did not even know what I felt.

 

 

 

 

If I was more worried about the blow taken by Harry.

More frustrated at not being able to talk to him.

 

 

 

 

Or more furious that Niall had removed the honor to beat that idiot coward as Cavendich.

 

 

 

 

But surely the last of the three was the feeling more insistent and demeaning, because it was carelessly together and selfishness.

 

 

 

 

He  was what I was.

He  was not what I wanted to be.

But he also was  what  I could not help feeling.

 

 

 

 

**Cambridge, January 17 th 1937**

****

_'Was it really necessary Niall?'_

_'If he says it's good it will be great.'_

_'So now we blindly trust Harry Styles s taste.'_

 

 

 

_'Stop complaining Liam, the last time Harry took me out to lunch the restaurant was definitely above my expectations.'_

_'The last time?_

_Do you often go to romantic dinners? '_

 

 

_'No, but since he came out as no deaf and no dumb ...'_

_'Since when you discover that he fucked with you, you mean.'_

 

 

Niall sighed in annoyance and raised slightly the tone of the sentence.

 

 

 

_'Since I find out yes, we go out often and talk a lot.'_

 

 

I saw Niall talking  about Harry and the only thing I felt was annoyance in an unknown place in my body.

 

 

 

 

 

All over my body.

 

 

 

It was one of the stupidest things, illogical and inexplicable  and yet it created a spontaneous irritation.

 

 

 

In the madness that I lived for months, not only Harry was mine, only exclusively mine, and then no one should afford to talk as if they knew him, but to this there was added the frustration and inconvenience of not being able to speak to him except in rare occasions, because I had , officially,  know him barely.

 

 

 

Probably not be able to speak was also the result of my paranoia.

And surely I was afraid that I would have revealed too much saying anything.

But that little irritating Horan was free to talk about him when the fuck he wanted to.

 

 

 

 

Anyway, Harry's name in the mouth of Niall made me furious, nervous, absolutely intractable.

 

 

_‘Anyway, this place has not just the look and smell of a high class restaurant.'_

 

Actually that was not quite the kind of restaurant that we usually went to .

 

 

 

_'Yes, but if Harry says it's good will ...'_

 

 

I can’t stand Horan, really, no more.

 

 

_'Yes, Niall, we understand, will be good'_

 

 

 

I added, without even looking.

 

 

_'How does the deaf-mute feel after the attack?'_

 

 

 

 

Liam looked decidedly unwell disposed about Harry and I did not understand why.

 

 

_'Better, in fact, good._

_I wanted to invite him  today but came out early and when you have stopped by he had not returned yet._

_I have not yet figured out why Cavendich wanted to beat him, but when they told me of his intentions there I said no more, beat that asshole has always been my desire, I just needed an excuse. '_

 

 

 

I do not know how he managed to irritate me so much.

Whenever he spoke it went worse.

 

 

 

He had not even for Harry, not only.

He did it because he wanted to beat Peter.

 

 

An excuse.

 

 

 

 

I'd be sacrificed, I would have taken his fists-and I would have taken, because Horan plays rugby, I don’t even know how to run- only to save Harry from that asshole and he instead needed an excuse to beat Cavendich.

 

 

 

But then, I ended up hopelessly, in my moments of disheartening sincerity, and asked if that was really the only reason.

 

 

 

Why do I wanted to beat Peter?

 

 

 

To protect Harry, or to prove something?

 

 

 

Just the time for the landlord to prepare the table and  sit down that Niall's voice filled the silence.

 

 

 

 

_'Harry !!!'_

_'What else did Mr. perfection did?'_

 

 

 

Liam now started to get weird.

 

 

_'He's here._

_Harry! '_

 

 

I looked in the direction of the gaze of Niall, with an urgency that could not conceal.

 

 

 

And he was there, at the entrance, looking around looking for a table, or maybe the landlord.

 

 

 

 

 _'Harry',_  screamed again Niall,   _'sit down with us.'_

 

 _'If it’s not a problem’_   he said joining us.

 

 

 

 

At least he said so to Niall.

 

With me it was another story.

 

 

 

_'Sorry, what are you doing?'_

 

 

 

The detached, cold tone.

He seemed almost annoyed.

 

I tried to call the landlord, drawing his attention snapping my  fingers.

 

 

_'I'm calling the landlord .'_

_'Yes, but he’s not your dog.'_

 

 

 

Then, as if nothing had happened, he turned to Niall ,  sitting next to me.

 

 

 

_'Horan do you mind if I join you in your place?_

_I can seem crazy, but I need to have the wall behind me._ '

 

 

 

 

I hated him when he did so.

But somehow, I loved him.

 

 

 

 

Because it was his absurdly way to take distance from me, to be able to do a step in my direction then, but making it imperceptible to anyone who was around.

 

 

 

And then came the innkeeper.

 

 

 

_'So guys, let's see what we have today._

 

(And he saw Harry)

 

 

_Oh good morning, sir. '_

 

 

 

I saw Liam sketch.

 

 

 

And Niall smile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_'Good morning mr. Wilfred._

_Today I’m with company._

_Can you  bring us so wine? '_

_'Of course, sir._

_Valerie will come. '_

  


_'Do you come here often?'_

 

 

 

Asked Liam.

 

 

_'Once a week._

_It’s informal but good.'_

_'Good morning Mr. Styles.'_

 

 

(Sir)

 

 

Appeared out of nowhere, the tone lively and sincere and her eyes filled with enthusiasm.

 

 

She will be not more than sixteen or seventeen years old, and seemed to have just seen God.

 

_'Hello Valerie.'_

_'How are you?'_

Harry smiled.

 

 

 

He seemed fine.

_'Very well, thank you.'_

_'I see today you are not alone._

_Are them your university friends? '_

_'Yes.'_

 

 

 

She smiled.

 

_'So, what do I bring you ?'_

 

 

While the others were ordering, I was taken by the way Valerie could not distract her eyes away from Harry.

 

 

Mine was like a disease.

 

 

I saw Harry making a strange gesture at the innkeeper but I didn’t gave him too much importance.

 

 

The thing that drove me crazy was the fact that the others were allowed to watch him so cheeky.

 

 

I could not accept the way, anyone, man or woman, let himself be enraptured by his charm.

 

 

  
  


Even Liam at one point gave way.

Simply because Harry had wanted.

 

 

 

If he decided to impress someone he clearly could.

Even when it all began in the worst way.

 

 

 

 

_'Styles that girl is crazy about you, she doesn’t take his eyes off you .'_

 

 

Niall seemed not miss anything.

Liam instead had escaped the nature of Harry.

 

 

 

_'Well at least we know why you come here so often._

_Seems you find something more appetizing than food._

_And I understand that you don’t have to pay it either. '_

 

 

 

My eyes immediately shot up on Harry.

The look empty, a stone face and cold voice.

 

 

 

_'I do not know how you used in your family Mr. Payne,_

_but I was not brought up to be disrespectful to women,_

_especially if younger than me and walks of lower life. '_

 

 

(With men apparently  you don’t worry, I thought. )

 

 

 

_'But you can lie to your colleague made up a disease that does not exist.'_

 

 

And I thought it would begin an endless discussion and quite annoying.

 

 

 

But that day Harry did not want to fight with anyone,

Indeed, he was absolutely determined to fascinate.

 

_'Yes, it still seems that Niall took it well._

_Not only he didn’t beat me but also saved my ass. '_

 

 

(Of course, sure, I had not already thrown him away from you)

 

 

Horan put a hand on Harry's shoulder as a gesture of affection.

 

 

 

 

_'Cavendich is a jerk, I could not wait to have an excuse to beat him.'_

 

 

After saying so he felt the need to lay a hand on his shoulder and bring him closer to him as a sign of affection.

 

 

 

I had to distract the eye otherwise I would have stuck a fork in his hand.

 

 

 

Liam seemed rather relaxed.

 

 

_'But what have you done to him, Styles?'_

_'I pointed out to the miseries of his ignorance._

_But he does not know the irony, unlike Horan,_

_and he does not understand when he overreacts, unlike you. '_

 

 

_'I imagine how you answered during Spencer class._

_Considering that you have not had trouble answering Spencer. '_

_'About Spencer, how much is the jackpot now ?'_

 

 

 

Liam and Niall looked surprised , and almost accomplices.

 

 

 

_'Which jackpot?'_

 

Tried to ask Liam.

 

 

 

 

_'The one which wins who guesses what I wrote on the entrance test?'_

 

Niall laughed.

 

 

_'How the hell do you always know everything?'_

 

 

 

 

 

How the hell can he?

 

He did not answer.

 

There was no time.

 

 

Mr. Wilfred served us and Valerie came with the wine.

 

 

Even Liam had to admit that is definitely better eat in this place than in certain restaurants in London.

 

 

At the end of lunch Niall refilled the glasses and intervened.

 

 

_'At this point let’s have another toast the young Tomlinson,_

_twenty-one years old, just enough for the House of Lords. '_

_‘You are a lord too. '_

 

 

 

 

For the first time in the last hour he addressed to me.

 

 

 

 

Niall burst out laughing.

Liam looked up.

 

 

 

_‘ I basically grew up in America, I don’t know how it works.'_

 

 

 

 

 _'No, it is not like this'_ I added.

 

 

 

 

 _'Payne explain it.’_   Said Niall, bored.

 

 

 

 

Liam sit straighter in his chair.

 

 

 

 

_'Louis is the son of a lord, notoriously the firstborn males inherit the title, but as long as their parent is alive, they use what is called Title of Courtesy._

_Now, traditionally, the above courtesy is the rank immediately following the paternal._

_For example, my father is the Earl of Essex and I am Viscount._

_The case of Tommo is different, because his father uses his Scottish title, Duke of Buccleuch and Queensberry and then Louis can use the title of Earl of Doncaster._

_Or at least that's what he since he was seven years old just to spite me and command me . '_

 

 

 

At final comment I laughed too.

 

 

Liam and I knew each other practically forever and I had always relied on my two years older.

 

 

 

The problem is that Liam has always been wiser than me and at some point began to answer to me  and I had to invent the story of the count to continue to treat it as my attendant.

 

_'Yes, poor Liam has always been one of my victim.'_

_'Actually,'_ he continued _, 'Louis is a marquis.'_

 

_'And now that he's twenty-one, if his father should die, he is also old enough to enter the House of Peers of the Kingdom.'_

 

After Liam finished his sermon -because he was always my friend  but this did not make him less boring - Harry turned to me, and I smiled even.

 

_'Ah well, at father death.'_

_'Yes, if father died.'_

 

_'Well, then, congratulations.'_

_'Thank you.'_

 

 

 

I tried to make sustained in words but then I slipped my hand under the table and put it on his thigh.

 

 

 

And he dodged.

Even angry.

 

 

 

 

And I felt these things badly.

I could not react polished.

 

 

 

I jumped up and asked Liam to move, saying I needed the bathroom.

 

 

Had already passed at least ten minutes and I knew that I need to calm down but I kept staring at the wall in front of the sink.

 

 

 

I was so nervous I had to rinse my face with cold water, which would have the effect of a slap but still not enough to get me back into the vortex of thoughts and by the resurgence of insecurity.

 

 

 

It was the story of my life.

 

 

 

I was of course surprised by the opening door, caught somewhere between thoughts and failure.

 

 

It could only be him.

I wanted it to be him.

 

 

_‘What’s wrong with you?'_

_'It wasn’t an invitation to follow me to the bathroom.'_

_'I understand that, but what’s the focking matter?'_

_'Nothing.'_

_'Louis.'_

 

(Tone of reproach)

 

_'It bothers me.'_

_'What?'_

_'Everything .'_

_'Louis.'_

 

(Same tone)

 

_'It bothers me when you move away from me._

_It bothers me when you ignore me._

_It annoys me how you answer to me. '_

_'And how are you supposed I have to do it, ha?_

_For them I know you from a little over then a quarter of an hour. '_

 

 

_'We've been here nearly two hours.'_

_‘You do know what I mean.'_

_'It seems strange still._

_Valerie who does nothing but stare at you._

_And Niall touches you without problems. '_

_'Are you kidding me?'_

_'You see,  you’re not even taking me seriously.'_

I even tried to go to the door.

 

 

But he closed the door and blocked the way.

 

 

 

_'Of course I do not take it seriously, asshole.'_

_‘Now you insult me too.'_

_'Louis, are you serious?'_

_Are you jealous of Niall?_

_And Valerie?_

_Wake up. '_

 

 

_'It bothers me and I can’t help it.'_

_'Well no, try to do something because you're out of your mind.'_

_'You can’t  act  with others as if I did not exist Harry, like I'm not in front of you.'_

_'Because I might look at Niall?_

_Because they are kind to someone else?_

_Why do I look like a normal person? '_

 

 

 

_'Because every time I touch you and you move over for me is a stab.'_

  
  


_'Louis, did you not understand that for me there is no problem Niall._

_You were there in Dover, you hear what I said on that couch?_

_Do you realize how much this means to me? What I told you on the couch?_

_Less than a week ago I rubbed on you and I came upon us without you touching me, or speaking to me,  hearing you gasp was enough for me._

_Do you have any idea of what happens if you put a hand on my leg like that?_

_I will ignite myself, dickhead. '_

 

 

 

 

 

Here it is.

 

 

 

Now I was actually slightly unstable.

 

 

_'Yes, but are the one you who insisted to sit next to me.'_

_'I need to have the wall behind where I sit.'_

_'It was not an excuse?'_

_'No Louis, it was not._

_And I like the way you smell. '_

 

 

 

I let out a half-smile.

 

But he did not want to laugh.

 

 

 

_'You have to start to give me something Louis._

_Because so far we are going to the same one direction. ‘_

_'But if I just told you that jealousy is tearing me apart.'_

_'Jealousy takes Louis._

 

_I want you to add. '_

_'Add?_

_If every time I try to kiss you move over?’_

_  
_ _'That is not to add._

_That's just take. '_

 

_'So what do you want me to do?'_

_'Now stop being hysterical._

_Look at  me, understand me, learn me._

 

(And then he softened his voice)

_As I do. '_

_'You?'_

_'Yes._

_Now I know that you're nervous because you jump quickly from foot to foot and your leg trembles when you're particularly looking forward._

_And you see it, now you turn your head and look down and smile with your lips tight cause you know I'm right. '_

 

 

I did it. Really .

 

 

Everything, everything as he said.

 

 

But how can he? Damn Styles.

 

I thought it was a magical power.

 

Instead, he simply watched.

 

 

 

I saw him approach and did not know if shoo me away or let him, I was afraid.

 

And I began to think that get him  too close wasn’t a good idea.

 

I stepped back slightly, back to the wall, and he leaned his arm.

 

Without touch, he came on my  skin, I felt him breathing  near my neck.

 

 

 

_'Sorry, I just wanna smell you.'_

 

 

The air stopped for a few seconds.

As stunned by so much desire.

 

 

Then he walked away and started to leave.

 

_'See you in Pembroke my lord.'_

_'Harry I got  the car.'_

_'I’ll walk._

_Not everyone is born with an ass like yours Tomlinson, someone has to work out. '_

 

 

Then he is opening the door and back to me

 

 

_'And I know that now you're biting your lip.'_

 

 

How can he?

 

 

To leave me always in a bath to put the pieces together that he had shuffled.

 

 

 

Every time  I was different.

Every time  I was another Louis.

Every time  I was a bit more his.

 

 

 

When I came out he was already gone.

 

 

I decided that I would pay myself but the wife of mr. Wilfred told us that was not needed.

 

 

 

_'He has already paid, Mr. Styles ,before leaving.’_

 

 

He had not even approached Mrs. Wilfred.

 

 

He had paid for all and only by word.

That was the gesture that he had to the innkeeper.

 

 

 

Mr. Styles has already paid.

 

 

 

 

 

I was the son of a lord.

 

 

For the House of Peers of the Kingdom.

 

 

I was Marquess of Buccleuch and Queensberry and Viscount of Doncaster.

 

 

 

Yet no one, ever, in my life, outside of the environment in which I grew up and where they knew my name and my titles, had called me sir.

 

 

 

And he had only a gesture to let  people trust him.

He had only the presence because people loved him.

 

 

He had spontaneous elegance that had nothing to do with the lineage.

The nobility in Harry was something innate, he did not need titles.

 

 

 

_'Why are you smiling Louis?'_

_'Nothing, I was lost in thoughts Liam.'_

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Cambridge, January 23 rd   1937**

 

 

 

_'Forget it.'_

_'Trust me!'_

 

 

He looked at me with his bloody eyes,

that day they were even more green than usual.

I came on porpuse.

 

 

 

After Professor Spencer lesson.

I had read those damned books.

 

 

_'Forget it, I will not read none of your books from now on. ‘_

_'I didn’t recommend Narcissus and Goldmund.'_

_'Ah, come on, it's obvious that you wanted me to read it.'_

 

 

_'It  was your choice Tommo. '_

_'Anyway, I've already read Carroll.'_

_'Yes, perhaps, when you were a child.'_

_'All right, so?'_

_‘Read it again Louì, do it for me. .'_

 

 

_'Oh, you just didn’t._

_You didn’t right? '_

_'What have I done?'_

_'You try to bribe me.'_

_'Me? No. How? '_

_'With  your damn French._

_You are unreliable Styles. '_

_'And then I brought you ...'_

_'No , I’m not gonna read these.'_

_'Come on, you like Oscar Wilde._

_And it's The Canterville Ghost._

_An amazing story. '_

  


_'I'm not a baby Harry._

_I stopped reading fairy tales. '_

_'And you never believed.'_

_'Why should I?'_

_'Why wouldn’t you?'_

_'What the hell does that mean?'_

_'I will not give you all the answers Tomlinson._

_Meanwhile, I leave you with these, if you want to read them. '_

 

 

Stubborn, bossy, arrogant and irritating.

 

I had no time to think of his fairy tales.

 

The problem that haunted me  was another.

 

 

What could I give him for his damn birthday.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Cambridge,  January 25 th  1937**

 

 

 

 

I do not know if you could call it exactly collapse.

 

 

It was more a matter of exhaustion.

 

 

Leafed absentmindedly Oscar Wilde, more out of boredom than interest.

And so I did then that his Alice and his Wonderland haunting.

 

 

 

It was then that I thought about it.

 

 

 

I did not think from the first year,

yet now I was almost a senior.

 

 

Now I can have it rightfully, I just had to speed up a little time.

 

 

 

I recovered all the credits that had accumulated in two and a half years.

But it was something too perfect to not spend a fortune.

 

Favors, blown, relationships, straight during exams, beers offered.

 

 

Anything to get to the source of the information.

 

 

 

And I succeeded.

 

 

 

 

Let's see how good was I Styles.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Cambridge, February 1 st  1937**

 

 

_'Harry you staring at me.'_

_'Yes, so what?'_

_'We are in the library'_

 

 

 

I expected his visit.

 

 

Indeed, I had waited too long.

 

 

But I was not too sure of seeing him.

 

That morning I went downstairs early.

 

I had seen Niall  going out for a lesson.

 

And I was assured that no one would pass.

 

 

 

I slipped the envelope under the door of the room and then knocked.

I had only waited to hear the door open and then leave.

 

 

The note and the contents of the envelope were crystal clear.

 

 

 

Or at least they were for him.

 

 

_'Every fucking door._

_Happy birthday._

_L. '_

 

 

 

That's why I expected him.

 

_'Harry you staring at me.'_

_'Yes, so what?'_

_'We are in the library'_

_'Oh don’t worry my lord,_

_if they ask me I'll tell the truth '_

_'Which truth?'_

_‘From where I come from there is no one sitting with a stick in the ass,_

_and when I see one, I feel the need to observe it scientifically. '_

_'Then maybe you should look at my  ass.'_

_'If I looked you ass the world will implode.'_

 

_'Stop it.'_

_'Because you got a fragile  heart?'_

_'No, a fragile ass'_

_'Then you suffer too.'_

_'Idiot.'_

_'How did you know it was my birthday?'_

_'I have certain contacts at the counter of the secretariat.'_

_'And the other thing?'_

_'Oh no, that is hereditary._

_I only accelerated a year. '_

 

 

He lay with his elbows on the table and looked at me more insistently.

 

 

_'Louis.'_

_'Yes  Harold.'_

 

 

I forced myself to  not look at him.

 

_'You know what I want for my birthday?'_

_'I've already made a gift.'_

_'I want another.'_

_'Let’s  hear.'_

_'I want to see you laugh.'_

 

(I was serious, like a lighthouse in the middle of a storm)

 

_'You’ ve already seen me laugh.'_

_'It  was  with Liam, Niall and sometimes I spy on you and see you laugh with other people._

_But you never, never,  laugh with me and I'll do everything to make you laugh._

_With me you're always sad and …_

_I just want to see you laugh. '_

_'Yes, but I do not know how to laugh on command.'_

 

 

And then he pull out a funny face,  with big eyes somewhere between sadness and disappointment.

 

 

_'Asshole.'_

 

 

 

And yes,

I laughed.

 

 

But it was not enough.

 

_'Oh no._

_You can not look away._

_Applies only if you look at me while you laugh. '_

 

Then I laughed really.

 

And he smiled at me.

 

And it was too much.

 

 

_'Harry you really need to leave  cause  I will not be able to control myself in few seconds. '_

 

 

 

He slipped a note under my book and stood up.

 

 

_'See you later Tomlinson.'_

 

 

He said it by  giving a shot at the table with his hand.

 

 

As prom night, before he went away.

 

 

 

Later Tomlinson.

 

 

Maybe then I really laughed.

 

 

And when I looked up,

from across the room,

 

He was still looking at me.

 

As soon as he  came out I  grabbed the paper with ease.

 

_'I would say that I can not wait to try it._

_And of course I chose the library._

_See you at the entrance at one._

_P.S. try to be discreet this time. '_

\-------------------------------------------------- ----

 

 

 

I had heard something about  during my first year.

But it was something between legend and jack ass.

 

 

At first I thought it was another way to torture us freshmen and make it even more mystical figure of the senior.

 

 

Then, in the second half of last year, a senior showed it to me.

Without saying who would be affected, without saying by whom he had received.

He wanted to feel important and wanted something else but he could not.

 

 

When leafing Carroll I saw the image of Alice and the key around her all seemed obvious.

 

 

The universal key of Pembroke.

One that opened all the doors.

 

One that belonged to the student of higher rank.

But in  1937  that student was Cavendich.

 

 

To which I managed to blow it with elegance, especially since he knew nothing of its existence.

 

 

When I arrived in front of the library, he was hiding behind the curtain covering the door.

_'OK', he said._

_'Let's go.'_

_'Where?'_

 

 

He opened.

 

 

The key worked.

He took my hand.

 

 

And I would have dwelt on this, even though I was perfectly aware that I began to think like a thirteen year old girl on her first crush, but I did not have the r time, because his response sounded like a threat.

 

_'To  unwrapped my gift  .'_

 

 

And at that moment, while he was dragging me , actually I started to be mad. 

_‘Gift?_

_I've already made you a gift._

_More than one actually._

_Because I also laughed._

_Really, if you think there's another gift, Harry, I would not want you to remain disappointed._

_In short, it is not Christmas, there isn’t a tree with many gifts unwrapped, it’ s a birthday._

_And I've already done more gifts than I've made all my friends and all my life. '_

 

 

 

But what the hell was I talking about?

 

 

I was out of phase and over talking.

 

 

We came down the hall and pushed me passionately on the corner chair.

 

 

And then I understood.

Moral theology.

 

 

No time to realize where we were which was already bent over me and he was losing my belt.

 

 

 

_'This was supposed to be your birthday present._

_Cause since I met you here that I think about it._

_Since we talked about the Christmas Eve. '_

 

 

 

At that moment I would have thought that he knew my birthday even before the night of the dance, which was not Louise to tell him, that somehow he has asked me, but the only thing I could think about were his hands.

 

 

 

His hands on my ...

 

 

_'Harry maybe we should talk about this, I was not prepared,  well a little bit maybe, and I have to  admit to having even fantasized over a few times, or a few more, but I had to prepare myself._

_You can not…_

_Oh. '_

 

 

 

He was at this point almost anywhere, with hands and mouth-oh my God-hair.

 

 

_'Louis look at me.'_

_'No way.'_

_'Louis look, come on.'_

 

 

_'What are you looking at?'_

_'I'm staring –I think- it’s a volume of Augustine of Hippo and I am considering that the concept of Confessions is very probably linked to spiritual and mystical moments like this, and above all I'm thinking that no Harry, I do not give a shit who you think you are , you will never Narcissus, you are absolutely Goldmund *’_

 

*as I said before in  Italy Golmund is called Gold – mouth , that’s what Louis is talking about.

 

 

Of course I said all this panting.

 

And clinging to the arms of the chair.

 

I was almost fainting for a blowjob.

 

What a miserable end Tomlinson.

 

 

_'Louis you’re over talking ._

_Look at me. '_

 

 

 

But he was very calm.

 

 

_'If I look at you I swear I’ll come.'_

_‘That’s my plan, Louì. '_

_'And then you have to move.'_

_'I don’t even think about it.'_

_'But Harry so I'll finish ...'_

_'Louis, shut up._

_And look at me. '_

 

 

 

So I looked at him.

 

 

Instinctively I put my hand through his hair and I felt his grabbed the other.

 

And yes, it was something incredibly sensual, felt the excitement all over my body.

 

From wrists to ankles, stomach, the base of the neck and behind the neck and lips.

 

But I felt every bit of skin at that time not reacted because it was the body,

 

but because, again, the soul drove me to meet him,

 

 

cause it was him,

cause he was there.

 

 

But that’s not why I calmed down.

It was for his hand holding mine.

 

Because I felt that with that hand he could feel me too.

I let my head go back and let myself be lead by him.

 

 

And I do not even warned him, I came upon him shamelessly, again.

 

And I had no more brakes, no more shame, no control, I wasn’t looking at me from the outside no more.

 

 

I felt how much he wanted me.

 

 

Before open my eyes, I let go of my legs and I felt my body soften.

 

And he lay down exhausted on my thigh, kissing the inside, near the groin.

 

 

Only then he released his hand and placed it on my side.

 

 

_'Harry.'_

_'Tell me, Louis.'_

_'Do not rest too much.'_

_'Why?'_

_'Because I also had a plan when we came here, you were just more arrogant._

_And now I expect even my birthday present, and you're definitely at a disadvantage. '_

_'Now?'_

_'Now for the conditions in which I am  is an optimistic proposal._

_Give me a few minutes to recover from what you've just done. '_

_'You want me standing or we change?'_

 

I started to laugh.

 

 

_'What's so funny?'_

_'You make me laugh.'_

_'Why?'_

_'Because  you always do.'_

_'What?'_

 

_'When you are nervous or anxious about something you become serious, aloof, cold.'_

_'You have learned to observe my lord, I compliment, but then what do I do?'_

_'Quiet Styles, I'll be good, I'll take you to a place just as irreverent.'_

 

I heard him laugh.

 

_'I'll be up to for it, I hope.'_

 

 

\----------------------------------------------

 

 

I felt what I was doing to him.

He felt like he could feel me.

 

 

I could feel it in his buttocks and then on the sides to which I clung, because his pleasure was mine.

Then at one point I heard a thud and then another and he said something panting softly.

 

 

 

And then something hit me on the foot.

 

 

 

I was distracted and I saw that on the ground there were books.

 

 

 

He was pulling books down from the shelves.

I paid no attention to stop.

 

 

And then I had to ask

 

 

 

_'Harry what?'_

_'Shut up , keep going.'_

_'You're pulling down a library of volumes.'_

 

 

_'I have to distract myself._

_If I thought only about what you're doing and how you're doing I would come already beating all records._

_GOING._

_Brontë._

_I am Heathcliff._

_Oh no, Jane Eyre._

_This is Anne._

_Ah, here it is,_

_Emily here._

_Here Heathcliff. '_

  


 

The problem was not that he distracting himself pulling books down the shelves.

The problem was that he took a title and recited a passage by heart.

 

 

 

 _‘Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate!_  
O any thing, of nothing first created;  
O heavy lightness! serious vanity!  
Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!

_William Shakespeare_

_Romeo and Juliet'_

 

 

 

I was doing a blow job in one of the oldest libraries of Cambridge.

Not embarrassed at all in front of elite literary of all history around.

 

 

_‘But to be frank, and give it thee again._  
And yet I wish but for the thing I have;  
My bounty is as boundless as the sea,  
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,  
The more I have, for both are infinite.’

 

 

And then I heard him give in.

 

 

 

I did not move right away, I wanted to take everything he gave me.

 

 

It was not a challenge, it was a necessity, it was the way I want it.

 

 

And then he let go, he sat down in front of me on his knees,

He took my arms  and I collapsed on my shoulders , exhausted.

 

 

 

_'Holy shit Louis._

_I'll never be able to  read Dickens again._

_And I think it's less exciting than exists in the world '_

_'This time you've still won._

_It was the most romantic blowjob of my all life.'_

 

 

Then we lay down side by side.

 

 

He looked at the ceiling,

while  I looked at  him.

 

 

_  
_ _'Louis.'_

_'Tell me, Harold.'_

_'I think I came over Austen.'_

 

 

 

_'I do not think I understood.'_

_'I came on Jane Austen._

_A bit after you have moved.'_

_'And now you feel guilty?'_

_'A bit'.'_

_'Well you should not._

_Has it never happened to her,_

_she would have liked. '_

_'Louis.'_

_'Tell me, Harold.'_

_'You are a horrible person.'_

_'You say only cause the joke on Austen.'_

_'Yes, but you had already given the best of you with Augustine.'_

_'Because maybe you got out  the Narcissus and Goldmund one.'_

_'No, I heard it, but that of the Confessions was worse.'_

_'Yes, in twenty years from now  my portrait in the attic will take it away from me.'_

 

 

 

 

_'Harry.'_

_'Tell me, Louis.'_

_'Do you think that sooner or later you will kiss me?'_

Then he turned to face me.

 

 

_'I do not know._

_What do you think?'_

 

 

 

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

Here we go!! Hope you enjoy this new chapter!  
As you already know you can find me on Twitter @stylinson_perry

Get yourself ready for the new chapter… it will be… ehm… very exciting!

 

Alessia xx

 He didn't even had time to get up and grab his jacket, and already Harry had slipped out of the classroom.  
  


 

  Damn Styles, I've decided to do some chasing, and this time to reach him I had to be ready to run. 

 

 He didn't even had time to get up and grab his jacket, and already Harry had slipped out of the classroom.  
  


 

  Damn Styles, I've decided to do some chasing, and this time to reach him I had to be ready to run. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!! Hope you enjoy this new chapter!  
> As you already know you can find me on Twitter @stylinson_perry  
> Get yourself ready for the new chapter… it will be… ehm… very exciting! 
> 
> Alessia xx


	8. 8 - Can't remember why I call you back

_'I know SOMETHING interesting is sure to happen.'_

**from Alice in Wonderland**

**Lewis Caroll**

 

 

 

**Cambridge, February 15 th , 1937**

 

 

_'Just do it.'_

 

 

 

I wondered when I had become so fatalistic.

What had brought me to that moment.

The day started strangely, actually.

 

 

The mid- year exam timetable has fallen on me like the ten plagues of Egypt all together.

 

 

Except that I had no chance of salvation.

 

 

 

 

I saw him go into the cloister at a steady pace.

 

_'Harry._ '

 

 

 

 

_'Harry.'_

 

 

 

 

_'Styles.'_

 

 

 

_'Harry_

_Styles. '_

 

 

I screamed.

 

 

He has to turn around because they all did.

 

 

And I chased him.

As usual.

 

 

_'Why won’t you answer me?'_

_'Tell me, Louis.'_

_'Where are you going?'_

_'Why?'_

_'it’s_

_only a question.'_

_'To the barber.'_

_'To  the barber?'_

_'Yes.'_

_'Why?'_

 

 

(He stopped. Not a good sign)

_'Because I want to play pool.'_

_'Do not be stupid.'_

_'A silly question ...'_

_'Why are you so mean?'_

_‘ I’ll be late._

_And I hate being late._

_Almost as much as I hate to run. '_

_‘You hate to run?'_

_'Do I  look like a sprinter?'_

 

_'You could be._

_You have very long legs._

_And you're so rangy . '_

_' Louis you are over talking again._

_Please tell  me,  what do you want? '_

_'Nothing._

_I'm sorry._

_Don’t hate me._

_I just wanted to say hello.'_

 

 

I was leaving.

_'Louis.'_

_'Tell me.'_

_'Sorry.'_

_'Nothing.'_

 

 

 

But he called me again.

 

 

_'Louis.'_

_'Tell me.'_

_'Wait for me in two hours in front of the bulletin board at the entrance._

_Then follow me, I have to show you something. '_

_'All right.'_

 

I turned around.

 

 

And again.

 

 

 

_'Louis.'_

_'Tell me.'_

 

 

He shook his head.

_'Nothing._

_Sorry.'_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When he walked past the lobby of the college he did not seem different from what I had seen a few hours before.

 

 

I expected a clean break and instead was the usual Harry.

 

Just as well, I liked his hair as they were.

He walked past me sternly and followed him at distance.

 

 

We walked down a side corridor and then an even more internal one.

It was odd, I never walked over there, weren’t  no classrooms or bedrooms.

 

 

We were in a wing of the building virtually empty.

 

I joined him and saw him stop in front of a tent.

 

He left open and made me go in front of him.

 

 

He closed the door from the inside and wordlessly motioned me to follow him up the stairs.

Many flights were completely dark, no windows, just one closed door at the end.

 

 

He slowly opened.

 

 

I could not believe it.

 

 

 

We were on the bell tower of the church of Pembroke.

 

 

 

_'Oh my God._

_That’s amazing. '_

 

I said enthusiastically.

 

He moved to force.

 

_'Stay still.'_

_'How?_

_Why?'_

 

_'Do not move a centimeter.'_

_'Harry  why are we  here?'_

_'Listen to me, Louis._

_You have to stay still._

_Or at least try._

_Let me explain. '_

 

_‘The view is fantastic.'_

_'Yes, but you have to try to stay quiet and still. '_

_' Okay.’_

_'You can’t move from here, from this exact spot._

 

_If you move forth someone could see from down stair, and further back you may hit the bell. '_

_'Ah, ok.'_

_'If you make a sudden moment or accidentally knock the bell we're screwed.'_

_'Why would I do something so awkward if I know what is the risk?'_

_'Because I'm going to kiss you.'_

 

 

 

This was followed by a long consideration pause.

 

 

_'It's cold here._

_It’s windy._

_And I did not bring my coat._

_Surely I will catch a flu. '_

 

 

I pulled the sweater on my hands as children do,

to trick a cold that I did not really feel.

 

And I refused to meet his eyes.

 

 

_‘Louis. '_

_'Tell me_

_Harold. '_

 

 

He laughed,  damned.

 

_'You are over talking again.'_

_'Yes I know.'_

_'Look at me.'_

_'No'_

_'C’mon.’_

_'You already knew.'_

_'What?'_

_'This.'_

_'When?'_

_'Earlier ._

_That’s why  you were so nervous. '_

_'I apologized.'_

_'Yes, but then you have time to relax.'_

 

 

_'So what?'_

_'Just do it.'_

_'Not with you in these conditions.'_

_'Why did you told me?_

_Could you not just do it? '_

_‘Cause you did fell down the stairs running.'_

_'Do  you will say it again and again?'_

 

_'No, but in this case I have to explain._

_You're not exactly graceful and peaceful '_

 

 

_'Why did you bring me here if you are so afraid?'_

_'Because it is the only place in all  Cambridge where nobody can see us, and I could kiss you under the sunlight._

_Because if I have to hide myself to the laws of England, I will not hide even from the eyes of God. '_

_'God is everywhere._

_He would see it anyway. '_

 

 

He laughed approaching.

 

 

_'Yeah well, so he has a front row seat._

_I want to be sure he’s not missing anything. '_

 

And then I smiled too.

 

Even with my throat.

Of joy.

 

_'Here._

_this is the smile I want to kiss.’_

  


  
  
*** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VadpotBtGiE>  
  
  
  


I felt his hand between my face and neck and I closed my eyes.

 

_'It is not yet time to close your eyes.'_

_'Are you trying to kill me Styles?'_

 

 

He did not answer either.

 

 

He began to kiss my ear and then the neck and then I began to feel his lips on the corner of the eye and cheek and chin and then again on the other side as well.

 

 

I would have let go but I was too urgent to taste him.

 

 

_'Harry you’ll drive me crazy like this.'_

_'And who says I don’t want to.'_

 

 

When he started kissing the corners of my mouth, I really felt madness stop between my back and  my throat.

 

 

And then I realized why he stuck me there, because I could not react to anxiety, to force me to stop the fear before it went  to the brain.

 

 

I wanted to go crazy but I could not.

 

 

My heart was on fire but my body could not stand him.

 

And he continued to torture me, breathing sweet and lips that touched me.

 

When he began to lick my tongue with his –literally- , then he let me answer.

 

His fingers on my back to tickle, pulling me close and with the other hand playing with my ear.

 

 

His mouth.

 

It was like sucking a sweet honey.

 

Feel the sweetness invade the throat and nostrils, holding still on the tongue.

 

Even when he walked away to catch his breath, he never lost touch of my lips.

 

It became more and more exciting and more and more insistent, and we both knew that we were not just able to stop us.

 

 

And breathing, we smiled.

 

 

And I could not resist.

 

_'Do you believe that God has seen enough?'_

_'Why do you ask me that?'_

 

 

_'Because if he has seen enough we should still continue on the stairs.'_

_'Yes._

 

(I never heard a safer and convinced YES before.)

 

_Come on._

_Let’s go. '_

 

 

He took my hand.

 

He took me downstairs.

Just few flights.

 

I had pleaded him for months.

 

I had wanted him and suffered.

 

I took his arm and with a hand on his chest I pushed him against the wall, one step below me.

 

 

I pushed him.

 

 

With lips, tongue, saliva, teeth.

 

The more I felt the taste and wanted to take over.

 

I resumed breath in his hair and kissing even those.

 

And I felt him small in my hands, like the night of Dover.

 

A different Tenderness, more subtle, compliant, was a surrender.

 

And I was trying to learn his lips biting them after him.

 

We did not realize we have arrived almost at the bottom of the stairs.

 

We did not realize of anything that was not our desire to have us.

 

I knew we were on a knife when one of them would have to let go.

 

Neither wanted those stairs became the bathroom of a pub, or the couch of a former lover.

 

And we already knew too well the other's body to feel the boundary of our excitement.

 

We both knew what that moment was so perfect,

 

our lips are separated but wanting more, never enough,

 

  1.   
  
  




 

And I wanted to be me.

 

 

I wanted to be, for once, the one who leaves him breathless after have taken his breath away.

 

 

_'When I can find a place and a time,_

_Harry Styles,_

_You'll forget that bathroom and your own name. '_

_'Swear to me.'_

 

I hugged him even more on me.

 

 

I said it in his mouth,

 

kissing him again.

 

 

_'I swear.'_

 

 

I opened my eyes before him.

 

 

To recognize the disappointment on his face.

 

 

I let him go but lost his balance and ended up holding the one thing he should not touch.

 

 

 

The rope.

 

 

The fucking rope attached to the fucking bell.

 

 

The fucking bell rang of course.

 

 

_'Shit!'_

He spent only a moment and we were already sketched out.

 

And then we ran out on a side door along the corridor.

 

And again and again, throughout the lawn outside and the park behind the church.

 

We ran until we threw ourselves to the ground in one of the flower beds around the college.

 

 

_'Why  with you every time we end up on the ground exhausted, Styles?'_

_'What can I say, I'm a challenging guy.'_

 

 

We stood there coughing and laughing.

 

 

_'Harold.'_

_'Tell me_

_my lord. '_

_'I have to ask you a favor.'_

_'I guess you wanted to ask the same before.'_

_'How the hell do you always know everything?'_

_'Well, you're not just passing to say hello.'_

_'Do you called me an opportunist?'_

 

 

_'No, I'm saying that I know you.'_

_'Here._

_Now you've inhibited. '_

 

_'Oh how tragic are you?_

_Come on, ask me anything you want. '_

 

 

_'I'm in deep shit for  Spencer’s exam._

_If I not recover this time he will fail me ._

_And you're the only one who can help me now. '_

 

_'What a coincidence.'_

_'Harry be serious.'_

_‘Of course I'll help you.'_

_'Now I also feel guilty.'_

_'Why?'_

_'Because you are so kind to help me with the history exam,_

_and instead you have to blame me for your face completely disfigured. '_

_'You see that you are tragic._

_It 'just a little irritation._

_It happens. '_

Then I got up.

 

_'Where are you going?'_

_'I won’t give up on my triumphant exit.'_

_'You're just an amateur.'_

_'Why would an amateur?'_

_'You do not do a  triumphant exit saying that you are doing a triumphant exit.'_

_'Shut up.'_

_'Louis.'_

_'Tell me_

_Harold. '_

_'Nothing._

_Sorry.'_

 

 

 

I smiled and left.

And I bit my lip.

And then I covered it with my hand.

 

And then I understood.

So I went back.

 

When he saw me coming he looked down.

He knew exactly what I was saying.

 

 

_'You went to get you beard on purpose'_

_'No'_

_'Yes'_

_'I said no'_

_'But you did.'_

 

_'But I said no.'_

_'I’ll see.'_

_'Oh you  stubborn Marquis.'_

_'You went it on purpose.'_

_'I did not want to spoil your skin._

_I did not want that reddens on your face. '_

_'Well my skin thanks you mr. Styles. '_

_'And I forbid you to laugh Tomlinson.'_

_'I can’t stop laughing.'_

_'Well it's not nice.'_

_'Oh I do not laugh for the barber.'_

_'Then why the hell are you laughing?'_

_‘Cause,_

_I am happy.'_

 

And that’s it,

 

 that exit was triumphal.

 

 

   
 ------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

I do love this part!! I love how they talk to each other, how they act like they usually do, two little boys completely fallen in love.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just came back! Otra London was amazing! Hope to see them again next year!


	9. 9 - OH I DON'T BELIEVE IT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me here :  
> https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009139571749  
> http://alecourtney.tumblr.com/
> 
> twitter @stylinson_perry and ASK aletommopayne

Who in the world am I? Ah, THAT'S the great puzzle!'  
Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carol

 

 

Cambridge, February 17TH , 1937

'I don’t believe it.'

'But it's true.'

'Are you sure?  
That one? '

'Yes, Summer 1934.

Then I fell in love.'

'Whose?'

I soon realized that my question was absurd.  
How sometimes I looked as the psychopath who I was.

But it has run away, the word love was playing as if it had been there forever.

I wonder sometimes, how many men he had.

If Harry has ever been really in love.  
He was young, he was only nineteen.

Yet, judging from how he did certain things-like direction, showing the audacity, he seemed to have a lot more experience than me.

And then I remembered that phrase.

What he and I that day we left slip between us, as if he had not spoken and I had not heard.

I don’t know how to love.  
I never asked myself if I was able to.  
I always thought that for me ,love, would always be an utopia.  
I could never fall in love with a woman and did not think I would have ever had the chance to tie myself to a man.

And I would not have been able to even recognize Love.

Then, he arrived.

And it is he that I recognized.

Love was not a word.  
Love was his silhouette. 

His height marched away from me and I reached across the aisle and then became his hair and the contours of the light that caressed them.

Love had his eyes searching my mouth and his teeth to bite my lips.  
It was his voice that greeted me distracted while in the throat he still felt my saliva.

The love he had for me.

And the incessant desire and tormented that love, for him, was me.

For this as we walked towards the library, that word pinned me to my questions recurring.

'I don’t believe it.'

'But it's true.'

‘Are you sure?  
That one? '

'Yes, Summer 1934'

'I really can’t believe that we were at the same concert.

I can’t even believe you were in London '

'I accompanied my grandmother when she was in Europe for concerts in Paris.  
And when I saw the poster of Yudina in London I could not give up. '(1)

'Where were you?'

'In the audience.'

'I was on one of the stages.

It 's so strange to imagine that we were in the same place the same evening.'

'And that's when I fell in love.'

'Whose?'

'But whose imbecile,  
Igor Stravinsky. '

 

'I find him great, too.'

'And played by her is divine.'

'Hey, how do you like Stravinkji if you like Wagner?'

'What can you say,  
I am versatile. '

When we arrived at the library -where Professor Styles would have started to help me for the exam - I saw him look around intently but did not mean that we sit down at a table too crowded.

'We are looking for an empty table if possible, so we avoid the disturb.'

'In fact I think Stan has already arrived and has taken place for all three.'

'Stan?'

'Yes, Stanley Lucas.  
You know for sure.  
Is in class with us.'

'I know who Stan is, Harry.  
Just I do not understand what he has to do with us. '

'He needed help and then I thought that studying in three would be more interesting.'

'Oh yes?  
You could at least ask.  
And you thought very badly. '

Turn around and leave was almost too obvious.

I walked briskly into the courtyard because I did not want to go back to the room and explain to Liam my sudden change of plans and mood and I just wanted to find a corner to stay on my own and think about where I could go and study.

I contented myself with one of the marble benches, and began nervously to roll a cigarette, which among other things I had to do three times, once I dropped the tobacco and then pulled over the paper tearing.

I hated when he did so.  
Nothing was important to him.  
Except what Harry wanted.

It has to go , it has to do how he said, in his own time and manner.

When touch us, when kiss, when- and how - make us a blow job, and who knows if and when we will have sex again, and certainly would have been his choice and his decision.

He could touch me, provoke, seduce me, kiss me, when he felt like it, I could not stretch out my hand under the table, or be jealous otherwise I was a kid stupid and senseless.

Everything was his choice and his decision.

I decided nothing.

Not even those who have at the same table when I was studying.  
Fuck you Styles, you and your selfishness masquerading as intelligence.

And fuck you because of the marble bench began to feel the cold pierce pants and the freezing on my ass.

Fuck you Styles.

Because even when I was cold I remembered him.  
Indeed, especially when I was cold, I remembered.

That day in Dover.  
That Cold in Dover.

Purple lips and skin even paler, his eyes begging me an escape, and my fear of having a single solution, the most painful.  
Yet, when I remembered the trip to Dover, I could not help smiling like an idiot.  
Not for the time spent together, for the complicity that had been created or what we had clarified.  
And not even for what has happened on the couch or what Simon has told me with such intensity.

It was about something that has happened the next morning.  
Something intimate, spontaneous and absolutely tender.

Something that over time would never faded and always has the power to make me go back to him.

As a cure, antidote, excuse, pretext, because there are times that we make our own, capable to fill them with so much power to crack certainties and even evidence.

 

(Dover, January 11, 1937)

I felt the tickle of cold on my nude back.  
The back of the sofa was not enough to warm me.

On the other side I felt the warmth of Harry's body.

Newly taken confidence with the space around, I realized we had to get up and get dressed and get out of there.  
Simon did not want -and not should - see us again on his couch and I just wanted to get out of that house.

Except that I could not find my hands.

Then I taken confidence with my body.

One hand around his chest.

It was hold to his, twisted.  
But what surprised me was where was the other.  
It was under him, between the pillow and his head.

He kept it to himself by holding my little finger with his other hand.  
And it was there where he slept, on my palm, breathing my scent.

He looked like a child.

I saw him so incredibly small.

So, in the unconsciousness of sleep, he surrender to my arms, falling asleep in my hands.

When I called him, with a whisper, as if I really didn’t want to wake him, but I heard no reply.

But he shifted.

Even further back,  
Looking for skin,  
Matching my body,  
and soul.

It was irresistible.  
Unforgettable.  
\---------------------

 

I thought about this and the fact that if the time had come when I wanted, on the porch for example, or even in the music room, before we knew part of our lives, it might not have been the same.

If I had not felt the strong instinct to protect him from the cold, even accepting the sarcasm of Simon, had I not been so afraid for him, so much embarrassment to the story of his father, that time would not have had the same meaning.

And he remembered that even if that night in Dover, if he let me kiss him, a kiss would have been different.

It would have been a kiss of game, provocation, desire.  
Perhaps misunderstood as gratitude, excitement, fun.

There would not be front row seats for God, beards cut and sunlight.

And I would be happy but I confused that happiness with that of his breath and his words and would never be the same kiss.  
He was slowly writing on me a happiness that could not confuse emotion with another.  
He was breathing out of my hand and challenged God and I was the jerk for Stanley Lucas.

'I'm not used to chasing people Tomlinson.'

'For Christ's sake.'

( he had appeared behind me suddenly)

'I am beginning to become impatient Louis.'

'To the blasphemy that do not apply to me,  
or the fact of having to chase? '

'Chasing you annoys me most but the blasphemy does not help.  
If you were not always taken from your wonderland .... '

He sat next to me.  
But I was the one who stood up.

'I wanted to smoke.

Come on, Stan is waiting for a while. ''

He not even asked me why I had changed my mind.

And maybe, after all that thinking, I would have got up and I would return alone to the library pretending nothing, but the fact that he had come to look for me, although I was wrong, it seemed another weakness that allowed me, for that I was mad and tender together, as I hoped he would read my attacks of jealousy.

When we arrived at the library Stanley had kept the place as planned.

It seemed that Harry did not want to waste his time.  
'So, exactly what problems do you have with the program?'

\-------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------

'It's not about laziness,I get bored.

The law is a matter of memory but has an ultimate goal.  
In mathematics there are numbers that change and making sense at the end.  
History not, are dates, places and facts but what are they in the end? '

I couldn’t no longer, after nearly an hour to study the facts of the last 400 years.  
I developed this theory in years and years of boring lessons and pedantic teachers.

Louis Tomlinson and his theory of the futility of history as a subject of study in schools of the Kingdom.  
It would have been my first bill in the House of Lords, delete the History programs.

A genius.

Obviously all this before meeting Harry Styles.

'I agree with Tomlinson sincerely.  
Also I do not find anything so fascinating. '

Shyly said Stanley.

'Why are you always so obsessed with all dates and facts?'

'Because history is made primarily of those Harold, if you do not know those goodbye examination.'

 

'History is made by men.

Men who make choices guided by their passions.  
It is not a question of right or wrong choices, but of moments.  
Dates are only stages that serve to frame the flow of events.  
And the facts are only the consequence of the reactions of men to other facts.  
And yes, it is true, many say that certain events would occur anyway.

But try walking through the history backwards without the factor humanity of the main characters and also you would arrive at the conclusion that we are only the final result of the follies of other men. '

I was madly in love with his voice, his lips and his expression.  
And I was also surprised by the fact that I had followed – and understood- and all his speech.

And I had the courage to turn around to look at the face of Stanley Lucas because I was sure that he was completely in love with Harry at this point and that I'd have to find an excuse to beat him in the bathroom.

Before I found the courage to turn around I heard him speak.  
'Good speech Harry, really, extremely interesting.

But if I tell the truth, you've not convinced me.  
This stuff continues to interest me little.  
I study it only because I want to get rid of it. '

Stupid fucker delayed.

How could he not be completely subservient to the intelligence of Harry after that speech?  
And because I had to split the air, the table and Harry's attention with this inept being?

'Ok Stan, I appreciate the sincerity.'

And then he laughed, letting that afternoon go.

 

Cambridge, February 19th , 1937

I got used to Harry that spurted out of the class like a possessed man after Spencer s lesson and now I might seek to achieve it, especially when I knew I would see him in an hour for our small study group.

Just as I rocked in this thought I heard someone calling me.

'Louis.  
Sorry.'

Stanley.

'Hello.  
Tell me. '

'I have not had time to call Harry, he comes out in a hurry.  
You can tell him that today I will not come to study in the library, please? '

I never enjoyed much for a defection in my life.

'Yes, of course Stan, I will tell him.'

'He is really good but I'm not very comfortable with his method.  
And if I tell you the truth, I always in a little awe.'

(Well no, you know Stan, to me this thing of awe never happened. Perhaps due to the fact that half an hour after he first saw me, I was having sex in a public toilet and did not even know his name, or perhaps because I gave him a blow job just a few meters from where you're sitting, I do not know but there may be several reasons actually)

I did not dare to imagine what he would think if he found out as I had known Harry or what kind of relationship existed between the two of us now.

'Hey Stan, do you like Jane Austen?'

'Yes, but I do not understand what has to do with the history class.'

'Nothing, just a question.'

‘Back to Styles, he was really kind to propose to help me but I really do not think that I will continue.  
Maybe in the next few days I will write him a note to thank him, it seems much more appropriate. '

As he spoke, my mind was still stuck in the previous sentence.

Propose to help me.  
Was he joking?  
Fooling with me?

'Was Harry to set out to help in History?  
Did you not ask him for help? '

'No, he asking me that, two days ago.'

'Thank you Stan.  
Good bye Stan. '

A liar.

That’s what was he.

Anyway, what was the reason to lie to me about Stan?  
Why the hell he felt the need to lie to me?

Anyway, nothing seemed to make sense.

I knocked loudly on his door, and I remembered that once before I had come here with the same anxiety, but this time I will give to him a handful punch.  
He opened it.

'Louis?'

He was surprised.  
I was ecstatic.

He was still dressed in his shirt completely unbuttoned.

In the ranking of my recurring erotic dreams, in those conditions he was on the top three .

I managed to stay calm.

'Harry, please, can I see you.'

‘Yes, certainly, come in.'

'In private.'

'I figured .  
Niall is not there. '

(At least he wasn’t in those conditions right in front of his roommate)

He began to compose himself.

'Excuse me, the British weather is killing me.  
I'm hot for most of the time. '

'Harry it’s February, it's freezing cold.  
But is it really that cold in Massachusetts? '

I saw him surprised, strangely.

'Enough but that's not the problem.  
Here is more humid, I am not used to.  
Louis Tell me, why such urgency? '

Seeing him, the anger had subsided slightly.  
But I was still irritated and wanted an explanation.

'I talked to Stan while ago and he told me to thank you but he can not study with you, with us.'  
'Oh.

(Seemed annoyed)

And he felt the need to send you?  
You could not wait to tell me later? '

'No, because actually I would like an explanation.'

'On what?'

'Why did you tell me that Stan asked you for help,  
when in fact were clearly you to offer it to him? '

'What changes?'

'You lied.  
And I do not know why. '

'I did not lie Louis.'

'Yes you did.'

'I said I needed help,  
not that he was asking me. '

'Right.

You had to help this poor idiot and you thought to help another.  
What, do you have a number of good monthly deeds? Do you save points to paradise? '

'You overestimate yourself Louis, you think you're an idiot instead, believe me, you are a rich jerk.  
And it’s hard to find someone able to share this champion title in this specialty with you. '

'Fuck you Harry'

'Shit, Louis! You do not understand what's the problem?'

He left me no time to figure out what the problem was that I felt the hardness on me, along with his hands on my back.

And his lips to tell the truth without using words.

Harry, he never stopped surprising me.   
It was not the same kiss as few days before.  
This was made by words and commas and thoughts and syntax.  
Inside there was a willingness to explain, to make himself understood.  
Even in this rush to say too much, all at once.

When he caught his breath I felt my life escape.

'I'm not very good at concentrating when there is only you.'

And I would have liked to answer but I was not able to say anything.  
I was still breathing simply because the human body do it automatically .

‘And I know that in the library there are a hundred other people but if I did not have to talk I can distract myself and then I stare at your eyes and I think of when you laugh and then the blue is mixed with the color of your lashes and I lose concentration and you have no idea how much effort I make to take my eyes off you

What should do I Tomlinson before you understand? '

He gave him no time to respond.  
And in any case I would not have succeeded anyway.

He kissed me again, and again.

'And I want you.

You do not know how much I want you.

I want you too much to consume in a quick bang against the door.

Cause Niall could return at any moment.  
So soon as I let you go, you will go on’.

I try to compose myself and I'll join you in half an hour in the library and we’ll study for the exam.

But you must promise to stop misunderstanding me.

Because I have not other since that night in the pub and I'm exploding and going crazy.

And at least you Louis,  
you have to give me respite.

Because having to convince you of how much I want you,  
is becoming a torture worse than wanting you. '

I nod with head and was enough.  
I felt his fatigue as I felt mine.  
We took us a bit 'to break away.

And I did not say a word.

When I was about to leave he stopped.

'Louis wait.  
Put this.

(He gave me a scarf)

I have left a mark on you neck.  
There is no need you to go around.  
I'm sorry, I did not do it on purpose. '

I was again to go out and I called again.

'Louis.'

I turned.

'Nothing.  
Sorry.'

I gave him a nod and left.

I sat on the floor, just around the corner, I took my head between my knees and began to shake and cry.

I do not know why.

I do not know what he meant.

His every word, was what I thought too.

Yet there was something else that was mixed to my tremor.  
And they were so many feelings together, maybe even too many.  
But among these there was one that I could make out, but I did not understand.

Fear.

I feel the same things that he felt but could not express them so physical and though it was almost always clear what I wanted, I could not undress my age, my wickedness, my inhibitions, my instinct with him.

I could not be rational.  
He was the one most rational among us.

Yet skin against skin, I could see it almost clear , while he lost all control.  
It was like a role reversal in which sooner or later, I would have to begin to react.

That scared me, because the only word that came into my mind every time I thought of Harry Styles, was too much.

He was too much.  
I would not be able not to lose my head completely.  
And that remained, however, a situation for us, with no escape.  
Yet, despite this, I could not imagine the possibility of not living it.  
The smell in that scarf seemed to breathe a life that a few months before I did not imagine even existed.  
In the two weeks that followed, I tried to stop myself in every way.  
There was always a table between us, and as our eyes were colored spots incapable of remaining within any border of chastity, we were able to study, talk, discuss, without imploding.

 

Cambridge, March 2nd , 1937

'I do not believe it.'

'It is incredible.'

'What did you do wrong?'

In front of the bulletin board of Spencer, Harry and I watched in disbelief the examination results.

Or at least, I was incredulous, he was disappointed to tell the truth.

'This past semester I was twentieth.

Do you know who was under me? '

'Let me guess.  
Lucas and Cavendich? '

'At least Stan did it .  
To little but he did it. '

'At least.'  
‘Do you have not be really disappointed?’  
'Louis, you have no idea how much I vaguely annoying are the two names among us.'  
'You will not have really hoped that I could be second?'  
'Sure.'  
'Harry I am fourth.  
I wasn’t fourth in a course from the seventh grade. '  
'How did you come to Cambridge?'  
I ignored the question of course.  
'Do you know, in these cases,  
normal people .. '

'We are normal'

'We agree, in this case two simple colleagues would give pats on the shoulder and hug.'

'But we are not normal and colleagues and if I hug you now would end up making out against the wall and I'm pretty sure that the rules of Cambridge do not allow it.'  
‘Mr. Styles congratulations.

(The voice of Professor Spencer behind us was formal but not acute and strangely I wan’t scared)  
I was hoping he would stop leaving embarrassing comments on tests, but to be honest,

next semester I will miss his impudence. '

'As it was obvious, I closed in beauty.'

'I hope always that your intelligence is more evident that your arrogance.

And I hope you will always meet people capable enough to be able to distinguish the one and the other. '

'I will try, as much as I can, to avoid the bastards.'

'Here, you got the meaning of my speech.  
Goodbye Styles, enjoy the rest. '

'Goodbye Professor.'

I looked incredulously results.

‘If you keep staring at that fourth place you will consume the paper.'

'I did not look at my name, I looked at yours.'

'You wanted to exchange them with the power of thought?'

I ignored the mocking tone and embarrassment in her voice.  
'You can’t imagine how proud I am of you'

'It's nice that you say, I can’t appreciate it enough. '

'Why?'

'First because I saw only the missing part, I focused on the mistakes.  
Then because I'm addicted, I'm used to getting the most. '

'I think my dad would go mad if I had your results.'

'I guess.'

I bit my tongue and if I could have torn it I would do also.

Stupid jerk impulse, I had to stop to choose words to thing just to fill the silence.

'Sorry.'

'It does not matter.  
Do not Apologize.'

‘I am same idiot.'

'You are,  
it is true.

But not for this. '  
'Do not you want to talk about,  
in short, of tel ..

'Not today.'

'Okay.'

I had the strong urge to touch it, stroke, or pinched.  
Before I could stop it, I saw my hand go and meet him and I had to force myself to stop halfway with an unnatural gesture, accompanied by a grimace of frustration.

He saw me and he understood.

'Coffee?'

'Sure.'

I don’t know if I had always choose the wrong day or if he never want to talk .

It was not my obsession, it's just that I had the impression that the fact that he did not want to talk about the death of his father meant so much already and that the way had happened it would tell me about Harry more than he made so far.

But I did not want to force him in any way.

For once, I wanted to hold off vehemence and curiosity.  
I wanted him to come to me, to be open with me.

Of course in the meantime I would have found another way to do shit.

Why could I commit myself to be gentle and respectful with him, but with the rest of the world continued to be the usual asshole dickhead.

 

Cambridge, March 3rd , 1937

'I don’t believe it.'

I'll never forget his eyes at that moment.

Yet, despite it was clear and crystal clear, I could not understand the meaning.

When I saw that afternoon Cavendich in the library, immediately I felt the grin filling my eyes and lips.

A day after his defeat, on the same battlefield where he had tried to humiliate Harry calling him a fag and plebeian, I could enjoy a historical revenge.

I could make him swallow all he had spit on him while in the courtyard had told to call him 'marquis', the gentleman that he had nothing to do with.

I could make him pay without lifting a finger, as the violence he had used pushing Harry against the wall.

'Peter.'

'Louis.'

'How are you?'

'I'm fine.'

'Not a bit disappointed? '

'What do you want Tomlinson?'

'Excuse me, is that I saw what happened during Spencer and I wanted to say I'm sorry.'

'What is wrong with you?'

'I got none.  
I am fourth. '

'And then?'

'No,  
nothing.

I hope that this bath of humility will serve you for the future.'

'Fuck Tomlinson.  
Do it yourself a bath.

Lately you go around too much with the plebeians and start a little to smell like them.'

'And what do you know?

I would say that some commoners are a bit too far away from you so you can really smell them.'

He reached the door,  
to my shoulders.

But I recognized him without difficulty.  
Despite the tone very strange.

 

'I do not believe it.'

'Harry,

what a coincidence.

Right now with Peter we were talk .... '

'Before you say more,  
I can talk to you please? '

'Tell me.'

'Not here.'  
He was weird.

He spoke as if his voice were emptied by himself.

I followed him to a journey that seemed endless, two flights of stairs up to the terrace above the library.

When he turned to look at me, he has an expression that I had never seen before.

Not like in the yard, after I tried to kiss him.  
Not like when Dover understood bout Simon.  
He was as devoid of any emotion.

'What were you doing?'

'In library?  
Nothing special.

A chat with Cavendich.

Only to tell him that I was sorry on the test result of History.  
Well, actually I was a bit gloating, but it was a chance encounter.'

'And why do you feel the need to rage on him after his failure?'

Now the situation was beginning to seem a lot clearer.  
I was being rebuked for my attitude with Peter.

'Because Harry he is an asshole.  
I do not like how he talks to you.  
I do not like how he talks about you.  
And he tried to beat you.

And do I really have to justify myself to you because I can’t stand Cavendich? '

'One thing is not to endure someone Louis, the other is raging free.'

'Are you kidding?

Need me to remind you that a few weeks ago you almost insulting him in the classroom and then you told me to hate him? '

 

And that you think gives you the right to do certain scenes in front of everyone attacking it with such cowardice?'

I was getting nervous.

'He wanted to beat you.

Keeps calling you in the most offensive possible ways and talks about you in a tone of such arrogance that only for what I would break his face. '

'If you want to be a hero Louis should avoid offending someone when he is down, so it is too simple'  
'Harry, do I have to remind you that Cavendich tried to beat you a few weeks ago?'  
'Of course Louis, but he is also what you would be now if you had not asked me for help ten days ago.'  
'Are you reproaching it to me?'

'No, but you can’t do that with someone just because he could not, just because you were more fortunate.'

'Right.

And thanks to you, then you also want to decide what can I say and not say.  
Then let me know who can or can not speak to. '

I went to a firm step toward the stairs.  
But then he changed his tone.

And screamed.

'You're better than that.'

'And that's your problem Harry, you keep loving me better than I do. '

'I do not want you good or better than you are.

I never had the ambition to change anyone.  
But I do not understand why you insist is on look worse than you are really. '

'What the fuck do you know how really am I?'

'I know you're not Peter Cavendich.  
But first, in the library, you were doing everything to look like him. '

'But I have always been, an arrogant asshole.'

'It's not true.'

'Shit.  
It is true.  
Why can’t this be enough? '

'Cause usually I never let anything be enough. 

Because, I know how you are, I've seen how you've fucked up your pride in Dover to not let me freeze to death on the street. '

'It's different.  
That was you. '

'It is true.

But not just that.

You said that Simon had the right to talk that way.  
And that's why you did not want to go to him that night.  
Cause if I had not been there, you’ll not go.

And that Louis, is called guilt.

That is knowing when you are wrong.  
And suffer the consequences.

And if you can be that Louis,  
why would be this ? '

'You can not change me Harry.'

'I will not do it.

I just wish you become what you are,

instead of wanting to look like what they are not. '

'Why am I not enough?'

'Because this is not the real you.'

'Now you have even presume to know myself better than I do.'

'Yes.'

'Maybe you've idealized Harry.'

'Maybe.'  
I do not know if at that time he surrendered.

Or if he understood what was useless to insist.  
But maybe that was his way of letting me go.

It ends there.  
The conversation.  
I thought my whole life.  
I was the same impulsive jerk.

The one who had so much fear of himself that he was willing to give up something just to don’t put his head in the game.

Maybe I had succumbed to the fear that had left me trembling in the hallway, a few days earlier, almost behind his door.

Perhaps I hated the way he read clearly all that I forced myself not to see.

Still, the way he treated me, look at me, to believe what I was despite my attempts to hide it, or my inability to see me, they had entered into.

And I understood it only then.

While I felt that maybe I was leaving something of an orphan who never knew I had.

Someone who made me feel really wanted.

Because the implications of his arrogance, his insolence, of him being terribly ambiguous, from the first moments together in the bathroom, gave me something different from all that I had in twenty years of human relationships, and perhaps that I had It made it so hard to recognize.

Respect.  
And not for Louis William Tomlinson, Marquis of Buccleuch and Queensberry, Viscount of Doncaster, the son of one of the Peers of England and Ireland.

But for me.

Me in all that meant.  
With my limits and my vulgarity.  
He would not let me call me abnormal and wanted to kiss me in the sunlight.  
He forced me not to believe a law hated me and wanted a company who claimed that I was hiding.  
And I felt every time his hands or his eyes slipped on me that there was no vulgarity in the way of wanting me , of accepting me.  
And perhaps that was likely to leave me naked with all this but without the armor of resignation and arrogance that I had built before.

And then I had to choose.

Go and believe him and let myself be loved.

Or get off and go back to being what I was before.

Rebuilding myself piece by piece.

'Why are you still here?'

The urgency chose for me.

'Because I'm a jerk.  
But let's go back upstairs.  
I need talk to you.'

'Not now, Louis.'

'Why not?'

'Why I am disappointed and do not want to say what I do not think.'

'Where doo you think you will go?'

'I do not know.'

I spent the next week to torture me trying to figure out, I don’t know, maybe it was better or worse.

He avoided me, without speaking to me, ignored me and when I walked into a room, he left.

Yet, when he believed I was distracted, he rested his gaze on me and I felt weight and warmth.

And every time he did, I pulled a sigh of relief, because while he was angry, disappointed and offended, I was still a doubt, a possibility, and it meant that I had really let go.

Then came Liam Payne to save my ass.

Or well, actually, he did the exact opposite but it’s a matter of relativity.

Cambridge, March 9th , 1937

I had seen them from far away.

Harry and Niall talking along the corridor to the tea room.  
This time I would not have allowed to escape, had to listen to me.  
I approached stealthily and sat between them, holding them both .  
I put my arm and started the show, trying to make the point.

'Hello guys.  
Go to tea.  
Can I join you? '

'Of course Louis.

Why are you in a good mood today?  
Horan did not miss a thing.

'No more than usual.'

'You're strange.'

'Well, maybe because Liam went home for a couple of days and I can enjoy the room.'

I emphasized each word, spelling clearly and slowly.

I let out the opportunity to repeat a couple more times over the next hour.  
Released from there as we walked toward the library, I thought to repeat the concept.  
Then, while Niall was distracted by another person, I fell something holding my arm.

'Louis we all realized that Liam is out and you're free tonight but if you say it again Niall end up thinking something, so please stop saying that.'

'Harry you're hurting me.'

His voice softened suddenly.

'I'm sorry.

You have clarified the concept.  
And I know what you mean.  
But I do not think .. '

‘it never happened.  
With him gone and the room all for myself.

I know you're pissed.  
And I know you're right.  
And forgive me, I know.

Sooner or later you will.

But this night will be over. '.  
'Louis ...'

'No.

Nothing Louis.  
Just, please.  
Come to me.'

I played it all.

My voice whispering of bastard supplication.

Anything to get him and get out of that situation.  
And yes, of course not only for that, also for the other thing.

But I wanted to come to me.

'I don’t know.'

It was the best compromise between the ‘no’ what I expected and the ‘yes’ I wanted it desperately.

I let him go and had no choice but to wait.  
It was the longest day of my life.

\-------------------------------------------------- -----------

I don’t believe it.  
That’s what I thought.

It was just after nine-thirty and I heard a knock.  
At that times I almost threw up on him after having opened.  
Instead miraculously I managed to restrain myself and said only

'Niall, what are you doing here?'

'Excuse me, Harry tonight is hysterical and if I not left him alone I will put my hands on him.  
Sympathetic, intelligent, I love him too , but when he is like so, I can’t tolerate.

I brought the weed,  
Do you roll or do I? '

 

I did not know whether to laugh the idea of Harry nervous and hysterical in his room,  
cry with disappointment followed by the illusion of Niall out the door,  
or despair loudly because I did not know how to get rid of him.  
An hour and a half, three rods, a succession of endless chatter later,  
I was at a point of no return, or he was going away, or I went away myself.

'Horan now I'm sorry but I really need to sleep.'

'And if I slept here?  
Payne is not there. '

'No.

You can’t.

I, well, I like to sleep naked when he is not there. '

'Oh do not worry, Harry sleeps naked, now I'm used to it.'

I gathered all my courage and my tolerance to accept that there was someone who could get used to having Harry Styles naked in the next bed and concentrated trying to find a plausible excuse to send him away instantly.

I was terrified that Harry came and changed his mind hearing another voice, or that he did not recognize and misunderstood the situation.

Or knock and then I had to justify the presence of Horan.

Then I tried to be honest.

Almost.

'Niall, don’t take it, but sometimes I just want to be alone, do things in complete   
freedom when Liam isn’t, and I can’t do usually… well, you understand.'  
'Oh.  
Oh.

I'm sorry, you're right.  
Need privacy.  
I'll leave you alone now.  
I think that Harry is now sleeping.  
At least now it's what I hope. '

(But we hope not instead)

'See you Niall.'  
'Night Tomlinson.'  
No time to lean against the door and sigh that I felt a light touch.

No time to open the door that we had already closed it behind us and we were kissing and undressing.

And laughing.  
And speaking.  
Or all of the above.  
He wouldn’t go  
Where were you?  
Out, but let's talk about this thing you do when you're alone  
No talk about you that sleep naked  
Yeah well old habits  
Harry sorry  
Shhh shut up now,  
raise your arms

Why?

I hate buttons  
I’ll pull it out  
You're pissed off?  
More or less  
Ouch  
What's up  
The hair in your clock  
Sorry

nothing

You're dancing?  
No I take off my socks with my feet   
You’re the sexiest man in the world Tomlinson  
Do you making fun of me?  
A little bit  
I'll show you if I'm sexy or not

That's good, I wondered if I wanted to fuck me up against the door

Oh shut up Styles

Is ok now I'm quiet I swear

Maybe you really could 

Now kiss me you fool 

I have ambitious projects

 

And I pushed him on the bed.

Naked was unexpected.

Even for me that I had imagined and designed him under his clothes for months.  
Even for me that I had explored with the touch in every possible way.  
Even I managed to surprise me for how good he was.

For the first time I did not have to stop.  
I did not have to suffer his presence.  
For the first time I was free to love him.

'I’m waiting for you my lord.'

I swore to him.

He would forget that bathroom.  
He would forget his name.

And I did not want anything else.

Just that.

But.

'Louis.  
Louis.  
What?  
Are you?

Oh I donit believe it. '

\------------------------------  
To my littlespoon, exactly on the other side of the world, and to G, always there for me.  
To my wifey S, and to all my girls on Larry fanfiction Will tear us apart. All the love.

 

(1)

Maria Yudina is a Russian pianist really existed.

To tell the truth I doubt that she was ever allowed to leave the Soviet Union and the concert of which I speak, the author totally invented, but she actually played Stravinsky.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m6Hh6wk6bFE

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am,   
> facebook https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009139571749
> 
> on my twitter @stylinson_perry
> 
> on my Ask http://ask.fm/AleTommoPayne


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